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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959975">i wasn't supposed to leave (i belong here)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicassadboi/pseuds/veronicassadboi'>veronicassadboi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>if i could stop, i would [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Tragedy, Dark Past, F/M, Jughead is ruthless, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Southside Serpent Leader Jughead Jones, True Love, there's death guns and blood but nothing so bad it warrants a warning, there's drugs too btw, this is a Jeronica fic people so pay attention, this is the Sons of Anarchy Jeronica AU no one asked for</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:47:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicassadboi/pseuds/veronicassadboi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jughead stands before Veronica covered in blood. The body lies lifeless on the floor but the anger in Jughead is still seething, spilling out of him. </p><p>Veronica’s body shakes. She hadn’t seen life escape a person so quickly, she had never seen death take its place so eagerly. He was in control of that. He made this. He was the creator of death, he determined someone’s life. </p><p>Part of her is scared. Intimidated by the way his eyes only darkened slightly after he fired that shot into the body’s temple like that. Back when it was a living person. </p><p>The other part loves him even more. He’d kill for her. There was no end to what he would do. </p><p>He speaks. “V?” </p><p>But before she knows it, her lips are crashing against his and her body begs to be even closer. All she feels is love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jughead Jones &amp; Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge, jeronica - Relationship, vughead - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>if i could stop, i would [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. may he never sit on the throne i built him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ladyinrosso">ladyinrosso</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The Jeronica Sons of Anarchy AU I've written for ladyinrosso who is probably the only person who will read this.<br/>A huge thank you to my partner in crime, acrookedsaint, for coming along for the ride.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>may he never sit on the throne i built him</strong> </em> </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> To my children,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jellybean, who has already found peace. May she reign the heavens like the Queen she is in my heart.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And to my son, Jughead, may he never sit on the throne I built for him. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> … </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The roads leading out of Riverdale are empty. Cool, crisp air flushes his cheeks as he rides through the silent darkness, flickers from the streetlights cutting through his vision as he heads towards Greendale. It was the nights like these that he loves. The silence that brings peace, the darkness that makes everything feel serene. No jolting gun shots, no red running down the drain. Just him, the Harley and the road out to nowhere. </p><p>Slowing down his ride as he approaches a convenience store to pick up some cigarettes before heading to the warehouse, he slows to a stop before backing up the bike against the footpath. </p><p>Jughead Jones saunters into the convenience store, fingers brushing along packets of chips, landing on a bottle of Pepsi that he grabs, swinging it at his side as he makes his way to the counter, placing it down in front of him. He plucks a packet of condoms off the rack and adds them next to the Pepsi. “Hey Midge,” he says, showing her a smile. “A packet of Marlboro’s too please, darlin’.”</p><p>He watches Midge run her eyes over his kutte settling on his <em> ‘Vice President’ </em> badge on the left of his chest. “You know,” she starts, picking up the condoms and waving them in the air. “It’d be cheaper if you bought a carton of these…” </p><p>Jughead chuckles, running his tongue over his teeth. “Keeps me humble buying them this way,” he replies, pulling his kutte tighter across his chest. </p><p>Midge rings up the items before putting them in a bag for him, her smile a little brighter and her eyes looking a little heavier. Before she can say anything else, there’s a loud bang in the distance and her eyes widen as she looks out the window. “What the fuck is that?!” she says with her mouth falling open. </p><p>Jughead looks behind him, dropping his wallet on the ground as he sees the night light up, flames reaching into the sky. It only takes him a second to realise where the flames are coming from, on the border of Riverdale and Greendale, the amount of noise coming from the explosive flames tells him even more. Ammunition, all on fire. <em> “FUCK!” </em> he shouts. </p><p>Scrambling to the floor for his wallet, he runs out the door, leaving his items behind. </p><p>The Southside Serpents warehouse with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of guns was up in smoke, and the Prince had to do something about it. </p><hr/><p>After racing out to the warehouse the night before, there was no way he could have approached it, having to leave it to burn to the ground. Explaining to his President what he saw wasn’t easy, especially when said <em> Pres </em> has a temper that was similar to the fire that took the warehouse. Huge, daunting and scorching hot. </p><p>Jughead follows closely behind Edgar Evernever, sticking close to his President as they approach the burnt out warehouse. Parking up their bikes, he hears an audible <em> “Shit!” </em> from Edgar when he takes his helmet off. </p><p>Looking over the scene, cops are already sorting through the damage, the burnt out firearms cause Jughead to panic until he sees Sheriff Mason. Getting off his bike, he makes his way over to Edgar. “You got the money? Mason’s probably wanting to get paid out for this.” </p><p>Edgar pats his breast pocket. “You know I’m not so slow, son.” They head towards the scene, the smell of burnt out dirt and hot metal burning his nose. </p><p>Sheriff Mason waves them down, standing at the edge of a hole in the dirt with one of his boys in there. “Serpents,” he says, greeting them. “Edgar, Jug.” </p><p>Both Serpents shake the Sheriff's hand. “Moose,” Jughead says, holding on a little longer. “The fuck happened here?” </p><p>Sheriff Mason gives Jughead a sideways glance that Jughead ignores. “Looks to me like someone's stash of guns was set on fire… Propane tanks exploded…” </p><p>“What a horrible accident,” Edgar says with sarcasm in his voice. “Good to see that the guns are not ruining our beloved town.” </p><p>“I totally agree,” Mason adds, sarcasm a little more evident in his tone. “Looks like arson though, so, you might need to do whatever you want with that information.” </p><p>“Arson?” Jughead says quickly.</p><p>“Footprints were found around the perimeter,” Mason explains. “So, someone’s out to get your business.” </p><p>“Fucking Ghoulies,” Edgar mumbles in Jughead’s direction. </p><p>“We’ll get to that later,” Jughead replies, placing a hand on Edgar’s shoulder, mind racing with their next plan of attack… and on who. </p><p>Mason sniggers. “That’s the least of your problems, boys,” he says, kicking his foot out in front of the hole in the ground. With both of the Serpents looking down, they notice a trapdoor that would be entrance to the basement of the warehouse. </p><p>Mason’s boy that was down in the hole lifts the trap door. Two forms, charred and blackened sit huddled under the door. “Holy shit!” Jughead says with shock. </p><p>Edgar just rolls his eyes. “Get rid of them for me, Sheriff,” he says flatly. Slapping a wad of money to the Sheriff's chest he turns to walk away.“This is something for your troubles.”</p><p>Dust and ash moves and settles as the two Serpents make their way back to their bikes. Jughead takes a cigarette from behind his ear, placing it between his lips and lighting it before taking a deep drag. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in the warehouse, Jughead knows that. So who were they and where did they come from? “Hey, Ed,” Jughead says, jogging a few steps to catch up. “Whose bodies were those?” </p><p>Edgar simply shakes his head, stopping at his bike. “You tell me son,” he replies. “Whoever made <em> that </em> mess is gonna be killed.”</p><p>Jughead grimaces and takes another drag. “I believe that.” </p><hr/><p>Sitting in the club room of the Whyte Wyrm, Jughead looks around at his brothers. Edgar sits at the head of the table, feet lazily up on the arm of the chair next to him and his face leaning on his hand, elbow resting on the edge of the table. To his right is where Jughead sits, eyes scanning the rest of them. To his own right, the seat is empty. He hates that it’s empty, there’s a feeling that he can’t escape. There’s a piece of him missing when Archie doesn’t occupy the chair. They’d known since they were kids that one day, Jughead would rule the Serpents and Archie would be his Vice President. It was a birthright, but Archie had to do right by his family and by Betty, no matter how much Jughead begged him to come back. To come <em> home </em>. </p><p>Archie’s own father sits on the other end of the table. Fred Andrews is wise, but he is an image of his life. He’s not as quick, not as agile and especially not with the gas he has to carry around with him. But his wisdom makes up for all his physical problems, there isn’t anything that Fred Andrews doesn’t know, and Jughead loves him as much as he loves Archie. </p><p>Fangs sits next to Archie’s empty chair, fingers drumming on the table and Jughead silently wishes he could cut Fangs’s drumming fingers off with just a look. Souphead looks around, visibly irritated by being here and Reggie’s face is glued to his phone. And Joaquin sits silently brooding.</p><p>Edgar looks up and down the table. “Where’s Sweet Pea?” </p><p>Before anyone can answer, Sweet Pea rushes in, taking his seat next to Souphead. <em> ‘Sergeant at Arms’ </em> badge stuck to his chest that he touches before leaning against the table and looking at the President of the Southside Serpents.  “What?” he asks, putting his hands up in the air. “Shoot me, I was late, no big deal…” </p><p>Jughead purses his lips together to hold in a laugh but Edgar doesn’t find it as amusing as the rest of the table does. “Two women burnt to a crisp in the warehouse, who were they?!” The table falls silent except for Souphead’s loud snort and Sweet Pea’s involuntary cough. “Well?!”</p><p>“Not mine, Boss!” Souphead says with a laugh but the sideways glance he gives Sweet Pea gives him away. </p><p>“If they were yours, Soup, you’d better get your ass back to the Toledo charter,” Joaquin sniggers.</p><p>Jughead just leans back in his chair. Knowing that Sweet Pea was their loose unit with less than satisfactory tastes in anything he does, he wasn’t surprised to think that the reason there were two women under that trapdoor was due to their Sergeant at Arms. And the look of amusement coming off of Jughead’s cousin led him to believe that he was right. </p><p>Edgar throws his hands in the air. “Tell me the truth, Sweet Pea! Are they your business? Or not?” </p><p>Sweet Pea groans, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Ed, I just -” he’s cut off. </p><p>“What were you thinking, man?” Jughead asks, shaking his head. </p><p>“They needed somewhere to crash! I gave them a place…” Sweet Pea says feebly.</p><p>Souphead grins. “Didn’t want them staying at your actual place?” he teases. </p><p>Edgar raises his eyebrow. “Get rid of them. Tonight. The Sheriff will bring them to your door, Sweet Pea, and you’re gonna have to deal with them!” </p><p>“Got it,” Sweet Pea mumbles. </p><p>“I’ll help you out, man,” Souphead offers.</p><p>The entire table starts laughing. “I’m sure you will, Soup,” says Jughead. His cousin also had morals that left a lot to be desired. There was a reason he left the Toledo chapter to come back to Riverdale and it had a lot to do with the tiny smiley face tattoos that were scattered all over his body that represented his body count… and no one could keep up with counting the tattoos. He enjoyed the rush of death a little too much. </p><p>Before Souphead can fake shock at Jughead’s comment, there’s a beeping through the Whyte Wyrm coming from outside. Looking out the window into the yard, Jughead shakes his head. “That’s your wife, Ed,” he tells him. </p><p>Edgar looks outside the window too, patting Jughead on the back. “That’s your mother.” </p><p>“JUGHEAD JONES!” Gladys Jones shouts, slamming the door of her pickup. “GET OUT HERE NOW!” </p><p>Jughead shivers at the mere mention of his name, knowing that he’ll regret it if he doesn’t head outside immediately. “I better get out there right now.” he mumbles, heading out the door. </p><p>“Your funeral,” Fangs shouts after him. </p><p>Jughead makes it outside, his mother’s pacing up and down the yard making him unsettled. “What’s going on?!” he asks loudly. “What’s with the beeping?” </p><p>Gladys smiles slyly which unsettles him further. Knowing his mother well, he knows she’s about to unleash. “I popped over to your place, found the junkie passed out on the floor…” </p><p>If there were any other words that came out of his mother’s mouth, he didn’t hear them. All he heard was a static ringing, the pounding of his heart against his rib cage and the sound of his blood pulsing through his veins.</p><p>Toni was passed out on the floor which meant his baby was too.</p><hr/><p>“She’s detoxing right now. She’ll be okay, your son however…” Veronica doesn’t know what to say. Or how. The look on Jughead’s face breaks her just a little. He’s lost. And she knows the look well. It’s the same look he’d give her when they were younger, the same one he gave her when she left ten years ago. It still hurts all the same, especially now that she can see just how much he loves his son without even meeting him yet. </p><p>“Just tell me straight, V,” he says almost in a whisper. He tucks his hands into his Serpents kutte in the exact same way he did when he wore it for the first time in front of her when they were teenagers. This time, it fits a little better. He suits it. </p><p>Veronica still hates it. </p><p>“Well, we had to do an emergency c-section on Toni, she’ll be out for a while now. Your son though, he has a heart defect and a tear in his abdomen -”</p><p>“The family flaw,” Gladys says, nodding. Veronica watches her trace a scar on her own chest. </p><p>“The same as Jellybean?” Jughead asks, looking for confirmation from either his mother or Veronica. They both just nod. </p><p>Even with the bad news, Jughead is his calm self. It might have been ten years, but a lot of him is exactly the same. His hair is still a dark mess, his fingers still flex in and out while he sorts through his thoughts and questions. She knows him. That hasn’t changed either. </p><p>“What does that mean for the junkie, <em> Dr Lodge </em>,” Gladys says thickly, eyes raking up and down Veronica’s form.</p><p>“Toni will be out when she’s recovered from the procedure and well enough to get to rehab. We’re going to have to perform emergency surgery on your son though, Jug,” Veronica says slowly, not wanting him to get mixed up in her words. </p><p>He inhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut, he leans back on the wall of the hospital room. Veronica is torn between wanting to hold him, tell him everything is going to be okay and stopping herself, trying to keep everything as professional as possible. </p><p>“And what are the chances of him coming out okay?” Gladys snaps, trying to get as much information as possible. The question, for some reason, annoys Veronica. It’s natural to want to know the chances of a positive outcome, but with everything going on, she wants to let Jughead know a little bit at a time. </p><p>“He’s got a twenty percent chance,” Veronica tells them honestly, clutching onto her clipboard tighter. “I’m so sorry, Jug.” </p><p>He just nods, running his hand through his hair.  Veronica feels the energy coming off him, as if she still had this magnetic hold on him, like she could still read him. He’s shattered, there’s not much more to it than that. “I gotta get going,” he says, brushing off the last statement. Both his mother and Veronica watch him as if trying to find something in him that’s not there. “Ed’s waiting for me.” </p><p>“Okay baby,” Gladys says, kissing his cheek.</p><p>Jughead turns around, this time facing Veronica. If ten years had passed in time, it meant nothing now that they’re face to face. He still runs his tongue over his teeth, shuffles from one foot to another before putting his arms around her. “Thank you so much, Princess,” he murmurs. </p><p>Veronica Lodge hadn’t felt this in a long time. The feeling of Jughead Jones against her, the soft exhale of his breath on her skin. The lost, unspoken words that he could never let go of. The way they seem to just <em> fit </em>. She feels it as he pulls away, a kind smile that he leaves behind when he walks away. </p><p>“I better go too, Doc,” Gladys says, already pulling out a cigarette from her handbag that she places between her lips. “You look after my grandson, and you make sure that junkie doesn’t go anywhere near that baby or someone will be paying…” </p><p>Gladys’s heels click through the hospital and Veronica stands there, watching her walk away. </p><p>She knows that wasn’t a threat that came out of Gladys’s mouth. It was a promise.</p><hr/><p>Considering the circumstances, Toni Topaz didn’t look much different to how Veronica remembered her. She still has long hair, pretty lips, and big eyes. She’s just <em> worn </em>. And it doesn’t matter how much she tries to give Jughead the benefit of the doubt, she knows Toni is worn from the life he’s built for them. </p><p>Toni lies in her hospital bed, unable to move, still linked up to a monitor to keep an eye on things. She spots Veronica in the corner, reading her chart. “Morning, Toni,” Veronica says gently. </p><p>She watches tears stream down Toni’s cheeks. “Is he okay?”</p><p>Veronica’s heart breaks a little. Some for Jughead, a little for Toni, a lot for the baby. Mostly for the absolutely broken woman in front of her. She couldn’t even hold any anger, she lost the hatred towards those who hurt themselves doing wrong early on in her years as a doctor. Now all she feels is sadness. And here she was, in front of a childhood friend who had almost killed herself and her baby, unable to hold any anger. “He’s fine, Toni. Honestly,” she says, making her way to the bed before placing a comforting hand on her arm. “And you’re okay too…” </p><p>“I almost killed him, Veronica. I’d be better off dead!” a sob echoes through the room with several more that follow. </p><p>“Don’t say that!” Veronica argues. “That’s not true.” She believes it. That baby deserves to have a mother who can at least try to fix things. “I saw you fight to live. Just like your son is. We’ll get you some help.” </p><p>“Jughead hates me… If our baby doesn’t get out of here alive, neither will I.” </p><p>It’s like all the hope that was in the room is sucked out. There’s not a soul left in the room. </p><p>And as much as Veronica wishes that what she said isn’t true, she knows it definitely might be. </p><p>She continues working through Toni’s chart, not even speaking a word. </p><hr/><p>There are four bodies in the backseat of the car that Jughead’s parked outside the crematorium that Dr Curdle Jr runs as a side business. Sweet Pea, Souphead and two girls burnt to a crisp.</p><p>“Come on, Doctor,” Jughead begs. “Let us cremate them and we’ll pay you out. A deals a deal.” </p><p>It doesn’t take much for Dr Curdle Jnr to give in. “You have an hour, Jughead. Then you guys have to go.” He heads back into his office and Jughead nods to his brothers, giving them the all clear. </p><p>Both Sweet Pea and Souphead start pulling on the tarpaulin that has the two bodies wrapped up in it. “Can we get a hand?” Sweet Pea asks. </p><p>Jughead remains leaning on the bonnet of the car. “Your mess, you clean it.” </p><p>“Not my mess,” Souphead shrugs. </p><p>“Yeah, but you’re the freak that wants to be involved with it.” Jughead replies. </p><p>“Don’t call me a freak, you’re the freak!” </p><p>Sweet Pea pauses, making Souphead pause as well while he holds the other end of the wrapped up package. “Can we hurry this along? Or do we have to continue with this family feud?” </p><p>Souphead glares at Jughead as they carry on into the room that leads to the crematory. He waits a moment before going in, waiting for them to place the bodies in. </p><p>He smokes a cigarette and checks his messages before heading in, missing out on the flames starting up. Before he can shut the door behind him, he hears a whistle. Turning around, he sees Reggie and Joaquin coming towards them. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” he hisses, looking around for anyone who might have seen them. </p><p>Reggie just grins. “Came to pay our respects…” </p><p>“What are you two really doing here?” he asks, pulling the two of them by the scruff of their necks and dragging them into the room. </p><p>Joaquin answers this time. “Didn’t want to miss out on Sweet Pea saying goodbye to his girlfriends.” </p><p>“You guys are sick,” Jughead says, shaking his head. </p><p>Souphead pushes the roller tray further into the fire. “Any words for the fallen?”</p><p>Sweet Pea takes a breath, his solemn expression amuses Jughead, but he knows it’s genuine. “Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…” </p><p>Jughead doesn’t hear the rest, instead, he focuses on the flames. </p><hr/><p>The beeping of the hospital machines, the cords and strings, the soft, shallow rise and fall of his son’s chest… it was all too much. </p><p>He didn’t know what to do. Or what to think. He knows that he feels so far away from his own flesh and blood when he’s on the other side of the glass that keeps him away from his son. He knows that his son might not make it. He knows that Toni shouldn’t have made it, but he made her the way she is. He made <em> this </em>. </p><p>Every right decision he ever made came off the back of the wrong one. Toni’s addiction was bad and he knew that, so he put her in rehab, but he wasn’t there when she came out. He left Toni and left her the house, but he wasn’t there to watch her. Maybe if he had made more of the right decisions by Toni, his son would be okay. Maybe he’d live. </p><p>Every single decision he made led him straight to this point, he knows that. He chose to stay in the Serpents, he chose Toni because she was exactly like him. Shallow, born into the snake pit. Too reckless and too fearless. He chose a life full of violence, fear, death, aggression. </p><p>And now his son is paying the price for it. </p><p>There’s a rattling in his bones that reminds him exactly what he is. A hissing in the back of his skull. It tells him that his life has his son on life support. That his life is the reason why his eight month pregnant ex decided to put a needle in her favourite vein and pass out on the floor of the house they used to share. </p><p>His life has him standing in the hospital with his son behind glass while he wears his Southside Serpents kutte, wondering what he’s going to do with his life. If his son can still keep his own life. </p><p>A tear falls from Jughead’s eye and rolls down his kutte, another falls and rolls down his cheek. Before he has the chance to wipe them away, he hears someone behind him. </p><p>“Jughead?”</p><p>Without looking, he knows the voice. It’s the same one that always talked him down when he was a kid, the same one his heart and soul knew he needed to hear. For the first time in years, he feels at ease. He closes his eyes as if trying to savour the sound of the voice. “Princess,” he says in reply, voice cracking slightly. </p><p>She falls in beside him, neither of them look, but he knows he doesn’t have to. He knows exactly what she looks like. He’d never forget. Even if it had been fifty years in between. “You came home…” he says in a whisper. </p><p>There’s a silence that falls in the corridor that looks into the baby’s room. Finally, she says; “I wanted to come home.” </p><p>“What made you want to come home?”</p><p>More silence. “New York wasn’t doing it for me anymore.” </p><p>He laughs. He wonders just when she decided that New York wasn’t doing it for her. Was it ten years ago when she left him crying for her at the bus stop? Was it when she told him they couldn’t be together anymore because of his life with the Serpents? When she begged him to try university, but he couldn’t leave his family? Was it when her drug lord father who owned a penthouse in Manhattan finally let her free to live her own life as the doctor she always wanted to be? “I’m sure New York is missing you…” </p><p>They fall silent again, this time, they both watch the machines that his son is linked to. “He’s strong, you know. Like you.” </p><p>“You don’t have to do this.” </p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“Look after him. More than you have to. I’m sure there’s other doctors that could do this.” </p><p>Veronica’s sighs loudly. “I’m not doing this for you, Jug. I’m doing this for a baby that might have a fighting chance if someone believes in him.” </p><p>She turns to walk away but he catches her hand as it swings back. Spinning her back around, he pulls her in close, bringing her to his chest. </p><p>There was something in their touch that made him recalibrate. Like just having her there grounded him. He can smell her perfume, feel the softness of her skin. Let the feeling of Jughead and Veronica being back together in the same room wash over him. </p><p>She pulls her head away but their noses brush, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he knows it feels right. </p><p>But before he can get any closer, her hands move to his kutte, pulling it open, she notices smudged blood on his flannel. “Damn it, Jughead,” she whispers.</p><p>She walks away without another word. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>
  <em> There comes a time when you have to choose your family over your brotherhood and it's confusing when they seem one and the same. Usually, one comes at the expense of the other and you’ll forever be trying to mend all the broken bridges.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Those you trust end up the ones you hate, those you hate end up the ones you trust. Trusting in your gut and instinct is the main thing, son. Only your own soul knows what it needs to find peace. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> …. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. all you care about is the fact it needs to burn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have to say I am extremely humbled by the love and support I've felt from everyone on chapter one. Thank you all for coming along for the ride. <br/>To ladyinrosso, for you. <br/>To acrookedsaint, for fixing every single one of my mistakes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>all you care about is the fact it needs to burn</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The rise of the Southside Serpents came off the back of a rebellion. Too hardened by life to fit back into Riverdale, too distanced from humanity to become part of a community. What we searched for was a brotherhood and the brotherhood became family. As I would kill for my children, you kill for your family too. But when does protecting your family turn into a thirst that is never quenched? A brotherhood becomes an army, standing up for what’s right: but that becomes searching for trouble… A family becomes the most dangerous weapon of all. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the fuel that starts the fire that never really died in you. The fire and passion to burn everything in your path, no matter what it is, or who it is. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t care about what’s in front of you burning. All you care about is the fact it needs to burn. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dust rises and settles as Jughead lifts the roller door of the storage unit that belonged to his mom and dad. Though the unit is cold and dusty, everything he sets his eyes on feels familiar. His father’s old helmets that hang off racks, his jackets - old, damaged kuttes. Items that belonged to Jellybean, her dresses, baby toys. There were ghosts in here, he could feel it. The memories of his father and his sister, and he had just disturbed them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plucking out an old push chair from under a pile of shoe boxes, he puts it to the side. Gladys had sworn there was a bassinet in here too that had belonged to Archie’s daughter, Ellie, that he had asked to dump in the unit. Moving boxes was hard, especially with all the traces of his father around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A box falls open, the contents spilling out onto the bench that it sat on. Roughly picking up the contents, he notices photos. Pausing for a moment to light a cigarette, he inhales as he goes through them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Photos of him and Jellybean when they were kids. His arm across her shoulders and her big, chubby smile on display. He doesn’t remember much of her, and it was something he battled with everyday. Clinging on to memories. It’s only amplified now that his son was born. It doesn’t help that she survived birth. She only got six years of life before she was taken away by the same condition his son is battling now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tucks it away before the guilt eats him alive, taking another steady drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash into a nearby box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next photo is of his parents wedding. Gladys smiles up at his father, FP next to her, his hand on her swelling stomach. Jughead smiles as he runs his fingers over his father’s form. Twelve years had passed since his dad had died, and now at twenty seven, he’s older than his dad was in the photo. The red head next to Gladys, Mary Andrews, doesn’t look all that much different now. But Jughead’s attention is drawn to the man next to his father. A man who is his father now is his own right. Edgar smiles at the newly wedded couple, his Serpents kutte with the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Vice President’</span>
  </em>
  <span> on it, just as he was back then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead goes through more photos. Him and Archie when they were kids, past members of the gang, photos of Him, Archie, Betty and Veronica at high school. One photo stands out of him and Veronica at Pop’s, hair clinging to her face and chocolate smeared on her apron from work, draped in his arms with his smile against her neck. For a moment, he wishes he were seventeen again. When things were simple and the only problem he had was the grip she had on his heart. He remembers how he constantly felt like he couldn’t breathe when he was around her, but he’d take that feeling over the feeling he has now. Impending doom. He shoves the photo in his pocket, stubbing out his cigarette on the bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds another photo, this time of his mom leaning on Edgar at the Whyte Wyrm, the next photo was the day they were married. Jughead sniggers to himself. “Couldn’t even wait two years for dad to be gone, huh?” he chuckles. But Gladys and Edgar had been together for so long now, he couldn’t even remember them apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting the photos back into the box, he finally spots the bassinet in the corner. Hiking over the piles of stuff his mother had hoarded over the years, he makes it to the bassinet, wiping cobwebs off and pulling out. Underneath, he finds a box with his father’s scrawl on it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘FORSYTHE PENDLETON JONES II’. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing the box, he opens it to find three ring binders. Jughead stares at them for a bit before blowing away dust. Slowly, he runs his fingers down the spine of the first one, drawing it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens it warily, noticing it’s full with faded pages and ink smudges in places. The first page reads; </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stories From The Snake Pit - The Fall of the Southside Serpents, by Forsythe Pendleton Jones II. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning to the next page he reads the words; </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To my children, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jellybean, who has already found peace. May she reign the heavens like the Queen she is in my heart. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And to my son, Jughead, may he never sit on the throne I built for him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he can continue, the phone rings, dropping the binder back into the box, he answers the phone. “Hello?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar breathes loudly on the other end, breath crackling through the phone. “Get your ass back here, son. We need to decide what to do with the Ghoulies fucking over our gun shipment!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead rolls his eyes. “Fine. Maybe we should hit up Archie as well,” he suggests quickly, knowing his best friend needs the money. “He could do with the cash.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar pauses and Jughead knows that’s not a good sign. “He wanted out, he’s out. Now he needs the money, he wants in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead knows better than to argue, but when it comes to Archie, there’s no way he couldn’t try his damn hardest to help him out. “He’s struggling, Ed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he flakes out again? He’s made it clear that he’d choose his own ass over his brothers. He gets caught, we’re the ones going down for it! And trust me, I’ll be blaming your sorry ass for it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Jughead groans, rubbing his face. “I’ll be back at the Whyte Wyrm in an hour, I’m just at the storage unit getting shit for the baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Edgar replies slowly. “Alright, we’ll see you soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead grabs the pushchair and bassinet and chucks them in the back of his mom’s truck before shutting the trunk and heading back to the roller door of the unit to pull it down. He eyes the box with his father’s name on it and decides to take it, throwing the box in the backseat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father always loved the snakepit, so what exactly was the downfall of the Serpents?</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Gladys Jones lines her eyes, black and heavy before buttoning up her blouse. She eyes the scar on her chest that’s all puffed up and grisley, she wonders if her grandbaby’s scar will be the same. Or maybe smaller, just like Jellybean’s was. She wonders if the poor kid will even survive when all he has is his father, and he can’t even face the reality of it all. Gladys knows she raised her own baby to be tough and hardened. But not </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard. Not when it comes to his own </span>
  <em>
    <span>son</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She eyes the bible that sits on the basin in Toni’s hospital room. It’s old, from around the 1920’s if she remembers correctly and it had been given to her grandfather when he became the Priest at the Greendale St. John’s church. Even through her hardest times, she always fell back on that book. She’s not religious, not in the slightest, but there was something comforting about having her grandfather around.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps out of the bathroom, faced with Toni’s sleeping form in the bed. If she could say she hated someone, right now, in this moment, it was the junkie in the bed. She tried to steal life, take it from her grandson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An eye for an eye, Gladys thinks. If Toni tried to break </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> family, she'd break </span>
  <em>
    <span>Toni</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The difference is, she won’t fail like Toni did. She’ll break her. She’ll break her rib cage. She’ll break her until she </span>
  <em>
    <span>bleeds</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heels click along the floor, the sound must have woken Toni because her eyes slowly open. There’s a panic in her, Gladys can tell, her teeth grit and she jerks up, straightening her back in the bed. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Gladys </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, Gladys?” Toni asks hurriedly, visibly shaken by Gladys’s presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can tell Toni is worried, that’s why she moves a little closer, keeping her grandfather’s bible tightly in her hand. “Thought you might want to say a prayer…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni eases just a little. Gladys notices the dullness in her eyes, her usually bright, purple hair flat and uncombed. Her skin is pale. But she takes Gladys’s hand when she offers it. “Yeah…” she whispers. “Okay…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys gives her a menacing smile, almost a snarl matched with a silent hiss. Closing her eyes, she begins. “Our beloved god,” she starts, opening her eyes to see Toni’s reaction. Seeing that her eyes are closed too, awaiting their calming prayer, she continues. “Please protect and watch over our new baby. Please help to keep him from his junkie mother, who so selfishly wanted to kill him -” she’s cut off when Toni yanks her hand from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I was sorry!” Toni cries, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t want this to happen! I’m trying to get help!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys simply rolls her eyes, leaning in closer to Toni’s ear, she whispers. “If you want help, darlin’, I have it right here,” she says, waving her grandfather’s bible in the air. “The good book is here to help you. But I don’t ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she hisses, “Want to see you around my family again, you hear me? Because not even god will be able to save you from the wrath of Jughead… or me, I’m his mama after all… you ever wondered where he got that bad streak from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chucking the book at Toni, Gladys stands up, hopping off the bed. Toni’s shaky hands open the bible and right in the middle is a loaded needle, locked and ready to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys spins on her heels as she listens to Toni’s sobs follow behind her. She smiles, letting the sound of her cries keep her going for the day. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The house was just as he remembered it to be. Even though Archie and Betty Andrews had been living in his old family home for almost ten years, it still looked exactly the same as when they were kids and Fred and Mary lived there. Still the same warmth, the same exact paint, even Fred’s old pickup that Archie drives now is still parked in the driveway. The feeling he gets when he pulls into the driveway is not for fear of ghosts like when he remembers moments when his own dad was around. It was a similar feeling to </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span> and how he misses the old days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting in the truck for a minute, he gathers his thoughts. He watches Ellie and Freddie wave at him from the outside their garage as they bounce a ball and he waves back but he stops when he sees Betty raise her hand into the air, just beyond her kids while she stands inside the garage and it comes back down, crashing against Archie’s face, slapping him hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead doesn’t even flinch, he doesn’t bother to run out and help like part of his heart tells him he should. He knows he should, any decent best friend would at least try and diffuse the situation. But he knows what will happen if he goes in there. She’ll either attack him too, or he’ll make it worse for Archie when he gets home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Betty makes her way back to the house, shooting a glare at Jughead before slamming the door and he takes it as his cue to go meet his best friend at his garage. Jughead slips out of the truck, heading towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead tucks his hands into his pocket and Archie inhales sharply, shaking his head. “I didn’t even see you pull up,” Archie says in a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought I’d take my time coming in so I didn’t piss Betty off,” he shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie scoffs. “Did you see that? She’s already pissed!” he rubs his cheek, shaking his head again. “She wants me to go back into construction, but I can’t justify busting my ass for twelve hours a day for shit pay and nothing to show for it…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead swings his arm over Archie’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Archie always worried about everything, and Jughead took it upon himself, since they were kids, to try and stop him from worrying so much. “Ed’s already stressed about where your loyalties lie, Arch, but I know you and I know your heart is always sitting with your family so I know you’ll do the right thing by the club so it helps out you, Betty and the kids. I’ve got your back. I promise, nothing will get in your way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie nods, sighing loudly. “What’s the plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apart from not dying?” Jughead jokes, but Archie’s face falls. “Find out why the Ghoulies put a hit out on our warehouse. Get a new shipment of guns and run business.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And where do I fit in?” Archie asks, pulling on the sleeves of his Serpent kutte. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re our best fighter, Arch. We need you for protection.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie’s face falls to the ground and Jughead knows Betty’s standing behind him. Forcing his most comforting smile he can muster, he turns around to greet her. “Betts,” he says quietly, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face is tight, lips pursed and brow furrowed. “You promised, Jug,” she says, voice breaking a little. “That Archie wouldn’t have to do this anymore... “ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead feels a lump in his throat. If he had a dollar for every promise he broke, he’d be a rich man and he wouldn’t have to do this anymore either. Every time he swore he would get out, ended up being another promise broken. He knows it’s the same for Archie too. The snakepit doesn’t set anyone free. The lies are more common than the truths. “I know, B,” he groans. “But I need him. Just for this one thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie gives his wife a hopeful look, hoping she’d let him go without punishment this one time, Jughead can read his expressions like a book. “Betty…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead walks away, letting the two sort things out without making him feel guiltier than he already does. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Veronica knows she shouldn’t be so invested in Jughead Jones’s family problems, but she is. She’s angry. Fucking pissed off. Toni was doing so well, so how did she manage to get a needle of meth to overdose? How could she do that when she wanted to try to get to rehab and how could she do that to the son who was trying to keep himself alive in the ward next to her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And where the hell was Jughead when this was happening? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica is relieved to see Jughead in the viewing room, but as usual, his mother is attached to his side, stroking his hair out of his eyes and smiling down on her grandson through the glass as if there wasn’t a care in the world. She places a kiss on Jughead’s cheek and continues to whisper to him. Veronica knows the woman could never see the flaws in her own son and she can already tell the same rules will apply to her grandson. Which were none. There were never any rules for Gladys Jones and her boys. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys spots her so Veronica waves feebly as she approaches the two Joneses. The Serpent Queen gives her a smug smile and something tells her that Toni’s overdose might not have been as unexpected as it might have originally seemed. Standing before Veronica was a woman who would not stop until she got what she wanted. And Veronica knows what she wanted is Toni </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Lodge,” Gladys says thickly, making the hairs on the back of Veronica’s neck stand up. “How’s everything going?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s tempted to smack the smug smirk off the matriarch’s face but she controls herself, instead, she takes a breath, smiles gently at Jughead and says; “Toni has somehow overdosed, we’re not sure how, but we have the police on it and Chief Keller should be in later to investigate…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches Gladys’s smile falter just a little and replace itself with a frown. Jughead shakes his head, looking at his son. “Fucking junkie,” he whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Other than that,” Veronica continues. “The baby’s doing well. He may need another operation in a month or so, but we’ll see after he’s recovered from this repair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “Can you take down my number so you can call me straight away about these things?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We probably have your number on file, Jug…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “I might need you to call my burner. My non-legit phone if it’s an emergency and you can’t get me on my normal phone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica swallows loudly. Of course he had a phone for his less-than-legal activities, but she’s not sure why she’s so surprised. “Yeah, of course,” she says, grabbing his phone off him and adding the number on his screen to her phone. “So when we decide to go ahead with it, I’ll call you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chances?” Jughead asks. “Of this being successful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart drops again. Watching the small frame of the baby that she just operated on, rise and fall was both humbling and daunting. She didn’t want to say the truth out loud. “20 percent again, that’s if his healing goes well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches his face contort just a little before falling deadpan again. Placing his hand on the glass, he sighs. “Not good…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Gladys elbows her son in the ribs before reaching up to his face and digging her nails into his cheeks, forcing him to look at her, “Don’t you say that!” she hisses. “Your son is in there and right now, he needs his father to believe in him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s right you know,” Veronica adds. “He needs you to be there for him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joneses don’t just die easy, baby,” she snaps. “JB survived six whole years after being told we wouldn’t be bringing her home. Your father was dragged at one hundred and fifty eight miles after being hit by that semi-trailer truck and that bastard still lived another two days before giving up. He’s a fighter, like all of the Joneses!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead manages a smile and nods. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I’m right,” Gladys agrees. “I’m your mother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys doesn’t even say goodbye when she walks away but Veronica is grateful for the break from her. Standing next to Jughead, she notices a tear escape him. Reaching for his hand, she links her fingers in his. “Thank you,” he mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For this,” he says, lifting their hands between them. “Keeping me grounded. For keeping my kid alive. It’s hard to believe you were gone for so long when this feels so familiar.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows exactly what he means. If she shuts her mind down enough, she swears they’re seventeen again on the banks of Sweetwater River, planning their great escape from Riverdale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, the constant beeping of the heart monitor draws her back to reality and she’s a doctor covered in the blood of the son of the most dangerous man in town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t reply to him, she knows she shouldn’t or they’ll get lost in memories. “What's his name?” she asks quietly. “He needs a name.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nathanial,” he answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nathanial. The son of the Serpent. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Archie slows down in his pickup when Jughead points to a dirty bar on the edge of Greendale. “Why here?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead spots Joaquin and Fangs already standing outside the bar. “This is where Trev hangs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dealer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Toni’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> dealer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both jump out of the pickup and run across the road to where their brothers are standing. Both Fangs and Joaquin give Archie a hug, clapping him on the back before letting go. “So, we’re doing this?” Joaquin asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re doing this,” Jughead repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Shipwreck smells like stale beer and vomit. Strung out women are sitting in the laps of some dealers Jughead recognises, but none are the one he’s looking for until he sees him hunched over a pool table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Approaching the table with his three brothers behind him, he takes a cue from one guy waiting his turn and slams it over Trev’s head, catching him off guard so quickly, he drops immediately to the floor, his head smacking the pool table on his way down. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bar falls silent for a split second before two other dealers make their way to the table, swinging hits at anyone, at Jughead, at his brothers behind him. Some land on his body that he ignores, Joaquin and Archie take care of the two dealers who try to join the fight, Joaquin having one in a headlock. “Nothing to see here, boys!” he calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a guy concerned about the mother of his child,” Archie adds. “Let him have it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trev scrambles back onto his feet, diving head first at Jughead’s torso to tackle him to the ground but Jughead picks up the cue again and slams it against his head, listening to the wood bend against his skull. Trev falls onto his back again. Jughead looms over him, blood pulsing quickly through his body, his head throbbing at the image of Trev’s head bleeding on the ground. The adrenaline keeps him high, no one could stop him now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Landing his foot on Trev’s gut as he stamps down on him, he spits; “And you thought it was a good idea to sell drugs to my pregnant ex?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another kick lands on Trev’s ribs. “I’m sorry!” he stutters. “I didn’t know she was your girlfriend!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was pregnant!” he says, this time on his knees, placing a blow against his jaw. “You sell drugs to pregnant women?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With each punch, blood splatters around Trev’s head, painting the ground. He manages more blows against Trev’s jaw until Archie places a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, Jug.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead storms his way out of the bar with three of his best behind him. The air is fresh and cool against his skin as he breathes in deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels good.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The Pembrooke had changed a lot since her parents last lived there. There were still traces of Hermione’s old perfume through bottles in the bathroom still on display and her father’s suits still hanging in the wardrobe but for the most part, they’d taken everything with them back to New York. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought moving back into their old family home would be more comforting than this. That maybe the good memories would outweigh the bad. Mostly when she’s near her father’s old office, she remembers all of the deals he made with shady men. All of the lies he told her mother, all of the times her mother would defend him and all of the lies she kept from him too. They were as bad as each other, they were a match made in heaven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had showered and put her scrubs in the machine to be washed. Hoping that both acts would wash a little of her thoughts and memories down the drain, but it didn’t work. She still lies on top of the sheets on the bed that she had since she was young and all the memories come flooding back. Mostly the memories of her room and how many promises and dreams she and Jughead spoke about that never came to fruition in these very walls. The disappointment hurts more than the reality that things never worked out the way she thought they would. She’s disappointed that seventeen year old her believed that they would even happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lies on the bed and thinks about baby Nathanial. How he survived all odds but still has a long way to go. She knows that she’s pushing herself to every limit for that kid. She knows it’s because maybe, she’s trying to make up for leaving Jughead behind. She’ll never stop thinking about what might have happened if she had stayed… or she had begged him to leave with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica’s eyes shoot open when she hears her phone ring, looking at the screen, she doesn’t recognise the number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie,” a voice says that makes her skin crawl. She opens and closes her mouth, unsure of what to say. Or what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get my number?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not how you greet your boyfriend, Ronnie. How have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is slimy, greasy and unsettling. Bolting up off the bed, she looks outside her bedroom window down to the road briefly before shutting the curtain and running to the apartment door to check that it’s locked. “Nick, you’re not supposed to contact me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Nick St. Claire is the new agent in town working alongside the police. So you might just see more of me…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica quickly hangs up. Leaning on the door, she takes a few steadying breaths before feeling her body give out, letting it shake while tears stream down her face. A sob escapes her as she crumbles to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picking up her phone, she quickly scrolls her contacts until she sees Jughead’s name. Safety, that’s what she wants. That’s why she came home. She wanted to feel safe, but everything around her is laced with danger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, she thinks. Jughead Jones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s both danger and safety in one. And she never felt so at home until she was linked with him at the hospital. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jughead sits on the roof of the Whyte Wyrm with a ring binder that he’d taken from his father’s box. Before starting to read, he spots a black Mercedes parked outside on the road. New agents, he thinks. He lets them carry on watching him, he doesn’t have the energy to scope them out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lighting a cigarette before he starts, he turns to a random page. For the first time in twelve years, he meets his father again. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You get to a point, son, where everything you do has a ripple effect. One wrong move sets off a chain of events. If you answer every single one of your problems with retaliation, you have to know what price you have to pay. Sometimes, retaliation isn’t key. Sometimes, the best answer is to do nothing, let nature take its course. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or you’ll end up with a whole lot of burdens on your shoulders.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. looking back, all we ever wanted was a home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To the editor, you go above and beyond. <br/>To the readers, I'm extremely humbled by the response to this fic. Thank you all so much!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>looking back, all we ever wanted was a home</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We had a vision. I thought we all did. Things started where they all do - with what seemed like a good idea. We were young, we smoked too many joints, drank a little beer, drove cars that weren’t ours. We rebelled in our youth and slapped a label on it - we were the Southside Serpents. And we loved belonging to something. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Looking back, all we ever wanted was a home. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter how many times he sees Veronica in her scrubs, cooing over his son who’s still linked up to machines, there was something that tugged deep down in his chest that he couldn’t ignore. Sometimes, she’s the seventeen year old girl who promised him she loved him, covered in grease during her shift at Pop’s. Sometimes, when his thoughts are messy, she’s the eighteen year old woman standing at the bus stop, begging him to leave with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, she’s the woman who saved his son’s life that he can’t stop thinking about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches her tuck a blanket around Nathanial’s small body, lifting her head, she spots him on the other side of the glass, greeting him with a smile that makes his cheeks crack as he smiles back. He’d never get sick of her smile, not even after all this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica washes her hands in a basin before heading out of the room to meet him on the other side. “He loves his sleep,” she says quietly, tossing a paper towel in a bin. She moves next to him and looks through the glass back at the boy she had just cared for. “Like father, like son I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead chuckles, nodding in agreeance. “You remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” she says with a menacing smile. “we didn’t get much sleep during the night back then, you had to make up for it by sleeping in late during the morning, even if you’d get your head bitten off by your mother for turning up late to school.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs, his mother was obsessed with him getting to school on time, attending every class on time as if he wasn’t going to end up in the club anyway. “I guess she had to stick to </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> social norms.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica bites her lip, Jughead knows she’s holding some sharp comeback about his mother, she always had. He knows his mother is hard work, especially when it comes to Veronica. “I guess so,” she replies simply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s Toni?” he asks. The guilt that he constantly swallows down, rises back up again. He hadn’t seen her. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see her. Partly because he knew that if he had tried a little harder, maybe she wouldn’t have overdosed. Maybe his son wouldn’t be behind a glass window right now. The other part was due to the fact he didn’t know what he’d do if he had seen her. Still alive. When his son was </span>
  <em>
    <span>battling</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, he knows that. No matter how many times he sent her to rehab, how many times he tried to make it work. He and Toni were both fire, and together, they couldn’t put it out. Too much the same. The more he thinks about it, the more he knows that no matter what, this was the way it was going to end. You can’t change fate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s gone to rehab,” Veronica answers. She opens and closes her mouth again, stopping herself from saying what’s on her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica turns to him, eyes glassy and lips pursed. “When she gets out, Jug, you’re going to have to figure out what you’re going to do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks her in the eye. He knows what she’s saying, he needs to figure out where Toni sits and where </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> might fit. He brushes her hair out of her eyes before leaning down to press his lips to hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a shift in the place. There was no static noise through the hospital room, no clinical beeping or smell of bleach. He feels it. Just her and him, just the two of them together. Her lips move against his, her fingers slide up his neck, get lost in his hair. He closes his eyes, lets the moment sink in. No time separated them, no distance in between. They were never apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Always together forever. He feels it in his heartbeat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica sighs against him, gently pushing away with her hands on his chest. “We’ve barely even spoken, Jughead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t wait for him to reply. She walks away with her stethoscope swinging around her neck. But he whispers to himself. “We don’t even have to.” </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Edgar sits on the edge of their bed, burying his face into Gladys’s stomach. She holds him close, planting a kiss on his head before pulling away. Slowly, she turns around, reaching to the bedside table where the cortisone needle sits. Tapping it first, she grabs one of her husband’s hands, kissing it gently before inserting the needle between his joints, trying to be as quick as possible and grimacing when he winces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She repeats the process on the other hand, hoping that this time, the effects of the cortisone will last a little longer and rid him of most of the arthritis pain. “How’s that for you, baby?” she asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar groans, rubbing his face with his stiffened hands. “Too many years gripping those Harley bars is gonna be the reason I can’t run my club anymore… the irony.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys tidies up the mess on the table. There was always something possessive when Edgar referred to the Serpents as </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> club. FP might have tapped out even years before his death, but that man built the club from the ground up with his own blood, sweat and tears. He was a fighter and a visionary. The Southside Serpents were what he made it. But she knows that what he built was also his undoing, so maybe Edgar did deserve to carry that title. He would never back down, Gladys knows that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as I’m with you, baby,” she says softly, “You’ll have hands that can work, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods. “Okay…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys sits down next to him. The problem with Edgar was that he barely had a poker face. She could read every single bit of him, and right now, he was worried. “What’s happening?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His sigh expelled demons that she could sense, rubbing his face again with slightly loosened fingers, he answers. “The boy. He’s challenging everything I say.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys wishes that she was surprised. Her son was headstrong, competitive and willing to push the limits. “He’s got too much of his father in him…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar sniggers. “I know. It’s like he’s the fucking ghost of his father. He never listens, he goes above me to do what he thinks is best for the club!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can sense the frustration in her husband, but also the danger in his voice. Edgar may look at her son as his own, but the ghost of FP Jones showing itself in Jughead was only going to be trouble. “You need to mould him, baby,” she whispers against his cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m trying to, Glad… I don’t want him going down the wrong path.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods, taking his hands in hers. “You make sure he starts following in the right father’s footsteps.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jughead sits in the club room watching Edgar smoke a cigar without even looking up. Edgar’s arrogance was something that Jughead used to admire, he didn’t listen to anyone. He didn’t have to. But now that he’s his VP and they’re supposed to be a team, it’s just something that pisses him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Archie,” Jughead starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar lifts his eyes slowly, looking at Jughead sideways. “Mmmm?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want him back in,” he states, cracking his knuckles against his palm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His step-father remains still, only lifting his hand to take a puff of his cigar. “I don’t trust him, Jug.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?!” he snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because, dammit!” Edgar snaps, banging his fist on the table. “When he got out of prison, he ran straight home! Betty is demanding he work straight and do you know what happens when a brother has to choose between the club and his old lady?!” he spits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead remains silent, not flinching even with his step-father’s shouts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continues. “They end up shitting on the club for the sake of keeping their woman happy!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar goes back to scanning over the newspaper that has a photo of Mayor Josie McCoy over it, but Jughead snaps back anyway. “Archie needs the money to keep afloat, Ed,” he explains. “If anything bad happens, that’s on me. But if put in the situation that jeopardises us, Archie won’t rat. Even if it comes down to Betty.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty doesn’t want him in the life, son,” his step-father says more calmly. “She doesn’t care if we go down. And we just can’t risk having someone back in the club that might do that!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead feels his blood boiling, his fists clench and his feet dig harder against the flooring. Archie was his brother. Not just in </span>
  <em>
    <span>club</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He could almost swear it was in </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They were born together, raised together. There wasn’t anything Jughead wouldn’t do for Archie and he knows Archie feels the same way too. Jughead stands up, shoving his chair back that falls over and clangs against the floor. “If you say Archie can’t come back officially, then I’m taking it to the table for a vote!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lock eyes. Air that you can cut circles around them as Jughead looms over Edgar. Edgar instead meets him with a smile, all sharp edged and fearless. “Fine,” he agrees. “But if anything happens, son. You’re the one going down for it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead doesn’t retaliate. He leaves the club room, slamming the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“My balls are bigger than this pile of firearms!” Reggie says, looking at the small pile of guns they’d managed to salvage from the burnt down warehouse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, they stand outside their new warehouse only miles away from the old one, but they have barely anything to keep in it. Bar a few AK’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead tilts his head looking at the pile then looking at Reggie's crotch. “Yeah?” he asks. “Prove it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we go,” Fangs groans, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie’s face drops, but his hands go to his belt buckle. “Do I have to?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said it,” Sweet Pea shrugs. “Now Soup wants proof.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joaquin shakes his head. “You two,” he says, pointing his fingers at Souphead and Sweet Pea. “Are fucking weird.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Souphead asks, pretending to be shocked. “He said his balls are bigger than a pile of guns and I want to see if it’s true!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Sweet Pea agrees. “Have you ever seen balls that big?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie sighs, unzipping his fly, he’s about to pull down his pants until Jughead intervenes. “Don’t listen to those idiots!” he snaps, kicking the pile of firearms. “Pull your god damn pants up!” He lets his boys keep arguing as he steps away, taking a cigarette break. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead doesn’t know what to do about the firearms that were destroyed. Or even what to do with the few that survived. The club simply didn’t have enough cash to get their supplier, Jason Blossom, to give them another shipment and they didn’t have enough firearms left to sell to the street gangs to get more money. They were fucked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a drag of his smoke, he closes his eyes and lets the night time breeze wash over him. He wishes he were at home, watching tv with a blunt doing nothing. He wonders if Veronica is working tonight, spending the time with his son that he wishes he were. Or maybe she’s fallen victim to his mother’s constant questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were out the back area between Riverdale and Greendale, nothing but bush and forest out here for miles but he can hear movement that sounds like vehicles over the sound of Sweetwater River. He hears Souphead’s glock click though as the crew fall silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead drops his cigarette to the ground, quietly, he stamps it out and puts his forefinger to his lips, gesturing for the boys to remain silent as he listens out into the breeze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wheels are moving quickly he can tell. Speeding through the dirt road. Hurrying back to the group and opening the satchel on his bike, he pulls out his own sawn-off, watching the trees and leaves move as the vehicle drives through the area. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who do you think it is?!” Joaquin hurries, pulling into closer to the group. “Poisons? Ghoulies?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoever did the hit on our old warehouse,” Jughead whispers back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fangs squints. “Looks like Ghoulies to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoever it is,” Souphead hisses, his eyes darkening and his smile growing. “I hope they’re up for a fight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. “Man, for once, can you not go into something with the intention of blowing the head off someone?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead argues back “Just because you’d rather cut someone up Hannibal style doesn’t mean I want to!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie’s head sways back and forth between the two arguing and Jughead fires a shot into the ground. “Can you two love birds stop fucking fighting for once!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally a black SUV comes into view but before anyone can scope out exactly who’s driving the car, shots start raining down on them. Hiding behind the van that Sweet Pea had brought with him to the warehouse, they retreat for a second but the loud pops of the bullets hitting metal deafens them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie heads out first, keeping low to the ground, he fires shots at the SUV that has come to a halt, doors slamming as the people exit the car. Peeking out from behind the Serpents van, Jughead notices the kuttes on the backs of their attackers. “Fucking Ghoulies!” he shouts to his boys. “Malachi!” he shouts to the group approaching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see Malachi, cocky grin spread on his face with his own sawn-off directly out in front of him, aiming right at Jughead’s skull. Tucking back against the truck he looks to his left, Souphead staring straight at him. “So what’s the plan, VP?” he says through breaths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kill before being killed, Jughead knows. “Get them before they get us, Soup!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead points behind his shoulder, giving his crew cues to follow his lead. He gets down low just as Reggie did who’s now hiding with his back to a tree. Fangs and Joaquin follow Jughead out, but both Souphead and Sweet Pea head out with their heads high, guns blazing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shots hitting anything and anyone in their paths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Soup!” Jughead yells, keeping his gun up. His own shots hit a body, he watches it only for a split second while it receives every bullet, body contorting and jerking with each shot. There’s a brief moment of satisfaction until he feels a bullet brush past his ear, only narrowly missing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Malachi’s scream as one of his men falls to the ground, but his attention is taken back to Sweet Pea who has his hand around a Ghoulie’s throat and his knife digging into the victim’s rib. Sharp, high pitched screams escape their mouth while Sweet Pea smiles down on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead fires again, this time hitting someone in the shoulder who crashes down with a thud. He ends up almost flying in the air when several bullets land by his feet so he runs again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s met with Reggie now against the van and a Ghoulie in close range of his head, ready to blow. Before they can pull the trigger, Jughead unloads into the Ghoulies back, so many times, the blood of the Ghoulie splatters back on his face, he feels it running down his neck. He has to replace his clip as he watches the young guy lie in a pool of his own blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie doesn’t hold back. He kicks the Ghoulie for good measure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi pauses for a moment while Souphead has one of his guys as hostage. “Fine!” he shouts, looking at his fallen men around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead approaches quickly, anger building inside him that he’s close to unleashing on Malachi’s face. They were approached, unprovoked on top of their warehouse being burnt down. He wanted someone to pay. Why not go for the biggest Ghoulie on the food chain?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fresh clip feels just about right to land in the middle of the Ghoulie King’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead makes it to Malachi who has his hands in the air. Digging the barrel of the sawn-off into his jaw, Jughead spits. “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you doing?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi doesn’t move, instead, he runs his tongue over his teeth. “Finders, keepers…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want our gun business?!” Jughead snaps, digging the gun deeper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Ghoulie laughs manically. “The Poisons have taken our drug trade. You run the gun trade. We needed in with new business.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead lets him go, shoving his shoulder. “Get out of here. You tell Martinez that we keep our business, and we won’t kill you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see the relief on Malachi’s face when he lets him go. “What about my boy!” he says, jerking his head to the guy that Souphead has taken hostage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead laughs, shaking his head. “He’s ours now. To make sure you keep to your own turf.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead watches Jughead, so the Vice President gives his cue. Nodding at his cousin, Jughead lets Souphead do what he was waiting for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fires a single shot through the back of the Ghoulies head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead walks away, letting his boys clean up the mess while he listens to the sweet sound of Malachi’s cries. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>He stares at himself in the mirror of the bathroom in the back of the club. He knows he should go home, avoiding it wasn’t going to do anything but make it harder to go there. He was afraid of the memories of Toni. Of the room he had decorated for the baby. He was afraid that his home would never feel like a home. But it has to feel better than the stale, dumb self contained unit at the back of the Whyte Wyrm that smells like sex and cigarettes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Washing as much of the blood down the sink that had come off his body, he pats himself dry. His eyes had bags under them. Deep purple and blue. His face had too many small, shiny scars that now, he couldn’t even remember how he had inherited any of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Jug!” comes from outside the room, Souphead bangs on the door. “Come and check this out!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Jughead pulls a shirt over his head before splashing a little more water on his face. He turns to head out, pushing Souphead out of the way with the door at the same time. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead’s grin tells Jughead just enough. He’s done something stupid and someone’s going to get hurt doing it. “First,” he says, pulling up his own shirt. “Look.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He points to a little smiley face tattoo in a sea of the exact same tattoo.His little collection of tattoos for every killing he’s done… that he knows of. It’s still fresh and red, blood speckles sitting on the surface of the lines. Jughead slaps his hand hard on it and his cousin jerks back. “Looks good, Soup,” he laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead grimaces. “Fuck you!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that all you wanted to show me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “Nah man. Look at this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead follows behind Souphead as he leads him into the bar. Lying on the ground is Reggie passed out, no clothes on and an adult diaper instead. “What the fuck happened here?” he asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea leans against the bartop, shit eating grin just as big as Souphead’s. “He thought he was popping speed. Instead, he was popping Ol’ man Fred’s sleeping pills.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We might go and drop him off for Keller to deal with. He might get a kick out of babysitting.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom or Kevin?” Jughead asks, unable to stop himself from smiling too. “Because something tells me that Tom’s not going to care about Reggie passed out in front of the station.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kev,” Sweet Pea shrugs. “He’ll get a laugh out of it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead shakes his head, taking a bottle of beer from the counter. After the night’s events, he was grateful for the normality for once. Even if it came with Reggie dressed as a giant baby.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Veronica can still feel his lips on hers just from looking at him. She knows she promised herself she wouldn’t do this to herself again. Fall in love. With him, of all people. But she’s not so sure she ever fell out of love with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he kissed her in the viewing room, she couldn’t stay to listen to his words. Or his pleas. Jughead was so sure of himself, so perfect and pretty with his words. Everything he ever told her seemed like a promise he’d always keep but he never did, not ten years ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And something tells her that it’s no different now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just being with him, being in his presence made her feel safe. The phone call from Nick shook her but Jughead’s presence made her feel steadfast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d looked over his number for what felt like a million times the day Nick called. But he didn’t call again and she never called Jughead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baby Nathanial stirs in her arms and she brushes her thumb over his forehead, wanting to press soft kisses against his small features, she instead continues to rock him, humming gently to lull him asleep. Though they were in the clinical setting of his hospital room, this felt like home. Him in her arms, peacefully asleep, finally free of most of his cords and strings. She was happy and she was happy for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica hears the buzzer sound and it’s to alert that someone was coming through. Looking up, she’s met with Jughead’s form storming through the hospital. He stops at the viewing window, smile as bright as the sun at  Veronica with his son in her arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gently moves her hand from the baby and waves at him, ushering him to come in. Standing up, she tucks the blanket tighter around Nathanial and looks up at his father who was smiling down at him. “Do you want to hold your son for the first time?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead doesn’t even answer. He holds his arms out, nervously biting his lip just like he’d done when they were kids. She would constantly have to remind him to stop biting. But not this time. She knows the nerves would be eating him alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gently places Nathanial in his father’s arms for the first time. She alters Jug’s hands underneath the baby’s body, making sure he has a good grip. Grabbing his forearm and guiding him to the rocking chair, she gets Jughead to sit down. Taking a step back, she watches the father and son meet each other properly in six weeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica can tell he’s a natural. She’d seen so many parents with their children over the years but this was the first time she’d ever seen a bond so strong. Jughead’s eyes start to well and the love he has for his son was so apparent, she almost felt like she was intruding. He rocks Nathanial back and forth, whispering gently against the baby’s ear. “I’m your dad, son.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica holds back tears herself. Nathanial has the same dark hair as his dad, the same nose. In this moment, she can see forever. An entire life right here in this room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks at Veronica, patting the chair next to him, he says; “Come and sit with us…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She joins them, leaning in to Jughead, she keeps her eyes and her smile on the baby. “He’s so perfect, Jug,” she whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was all you, Doc,” he laughs. “You made this all possible.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica rocks in time with the boys next to her. For the first time in years, she feels like she’s part of a family. She knows she shouldn’t, but there’s something comforting about the feeling she’s in right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she looks up, she’s met with the eyes of Gladys Jones. Her lips are curved up into a smile, but Veronica can see a whole other look in Gladys’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like maybe Gladys sees the same thing Veronica feels. Like she’s part of the family. But she really, really doesn’t like it.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Veronica walks out of her favourite coffee shop and heads towards the police station. Noticing something or someone moving in the bushes having noticed a foot hanging out of the bush as she moves closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin stands with his hands on his hips, his sheriff badge shining in the sunlight and he rolls his eyes so hard, Veronica can feel them moving in her head. Taking a sip of her coffee, she stands next to Kevin. “Rough morning, Sheriff?” she asks with an amused look on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See the sort of shit I have to deal with, V?” he asks, kicking the body again. “Get up!” he yells. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking down at the body, she first notices the adult diaper… closely followed by the sign stapled to the bare chest that reads; <em>“Please return me to my mommy”.</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie rubs his eyes, then as he goes to speak, he realises his mouth is taped shut with a pacifier in between. Ripping the tape and pacifier from his mouth followed by pulling off the sign and staples with a groan, he slowly gets up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” he says croakily. “Kev. I think I’m late for my morning feeding…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both watch as Reggie starts his walk of shame. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For the most part, we weren’t violent men. We were forced to be due to circumstances. When we move ourselves from the normality of life, you give up on everything that makes life what it is. Blood and bullets become the new norm. Violence and anger become part of you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We weren’t violent, but something flicked in us and we became exactly what we didn’t want to be.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. sometimes, our only escape was to force our way out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My editor is amazing. Is yours? </p>
<p>I also want to thank everyone for your support. I would never have seen this being as popular as it is. I'm extremely grateful. If you've seen SOA, we're starting to get into the nitty gritty I'm sure you haven't forgotten from the show now. Yay?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>sometimes our only escape was to force our way out</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Freedom, at the end of the day, was what we yearned for. The freedom of speech, to make our own decisions, to walk to the beat of our own drums. What we didn’t foresee was that the decisions and moves that we made only came with more restraints. Someone was always trying to hold us down, the system was trying to lock us up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a never ending cycle. It was the one thing we couldn’t escape. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes, our only escape was to force our way out… and that was a dangerous thing to do. </span>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>....</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom Keller sits at the club table like he was another one of the crew. He laughs alongside Edgar, sips his coffee like the rest of the boys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he wasn’t. He was on the opposite side of the law. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom Keller had been on the Serpent payroll for as long as Jughead could remember. An agreement that FP had made early on in the club’s history and early on in Tom’s career. It didn’t matter how many of the Serpents had laughed about Tom’s relationship with the club, Jughead saw it for what it was. Tom knew that it was better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Serpents might be cruel and unforgiving, but they came with rules and a code, even if it didn’t seem like it. It was better to have them run Riverdale than the demons who lurk around, bigger and badder than the snake pit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom’s gun sits on the table alongside the rest of the Serpents, taking a sip of his coffee, he looks over to Reggie. “Thanks for the coffee, Reg,” he says, holding up his cup. “It’s perfect.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, the coffee boy,” Sweet Pea mocks, blowing a kiss to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie pretends to catch it, putting the kiss against his cheek before Edgar speaks. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Tom?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom takes a deep breath, pursing his lips together before speaking. “Kev has inherited new friends,” he says, talking about his son. “Moose is having trouble over in Greendale so he’s unable to help us out here. We’ve got the Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms team here in Riverdale and you know for a fact, they’ll be trying to take you down. I just thought you should be warned.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for the heads up, Tommy,” Fred says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin was in the running to take his father’s Chief’s title when Tom eventually retires, but he’s constantly walking the line of being committed to the law, or keeping in with the devils he knows. Jughead knows Moose won’t be on board as long as the ATF were in town. In all, Jughead knows they’re not in a good spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh man, that’s not good,” Archie mumbles beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re fucked!” Souphead moans, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. Jughead couldn’t have said it better himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Fred argues. “We’ll come up with something.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closes his eyes for a second and runs a hand through his hair. “What if you try and push them towards Greendale?” he asks Tom, but he just shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ghoulies already have the connection to you. They go down, you do too either way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar grinds his teeth. “What does this mean? With the ATF and Serpents?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It means,” Tom starts, leaning in closer. “That in the next few days, your door is going to be busted down and you guys will be raided. So whatever, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>items</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says thickly, “You might have, need to go.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie drums his fingers nervously on the table, looking from side to side, he lifts his shoulders. “I don’t have anything on me, what about you guys? I got rid of the coke I had stashed at my pad…”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joaquin digs his elbow into Reggie’s ribs. “Not you personally, dumb ass!” he snaps. “He means us - the </span>
  <em>
    <span>club!</span>
  </em>
  <span> And the illegal firearms we sell!”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Reggie replies, shrinking down in his chair. “Oh shit!” he starts up again. “Guns!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fangs shakes his head, looking at Reggie incredulously. “You’re so thick.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead bangs his fist on the table to get order, knowing that if he lets them carry on any longer, they’ll be here all day. Tom stands up, pushing his cup to Reggie. “Thanks for that, Reg,” he says. “I’ll be off now. You guys do what you gotta do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking out of the Whyte Wyrm, they’re left to discuss their plan. This wasn’t the first time they’d been stung by the ATF and Jughead knows it won’t be the last, but it sure was getting tiring. He looks over at his cousin. “I’ll get mom to get in touch with Toledo charter,” he tells Souphead. “You keen to go back to your old stomping ground.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead grins, nodding quickly. “You know I always like going home! Who’s coming with me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one puts their hands up but Souphead’s eyes zone in on Sweet Pea. “What?” Sweet Pea asks, knowing exactly what was about to happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two go to Toledo and drop our firearms off at the charter before our raid,” Edgar orders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fred bangs his fist on the table. “And what if they get caught between here and Toledo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar lifts his head slowly, glare shooting at Fred from across the table. “We can’t live for </span>
  <em>
    <span>what-if’s, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fred.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re wanting to send only two guys out there. We need more manpower than that. They’re like sheep for slaughter!” Fred argues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar shoots daggers at Fred. “We’re not discussing this! Soup and Sweets will head out in the next couple of days and that’s final!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fred straightens his shoulders, lifting his chin up. Jughead knows that this won’t end well, when the two of three remaining founding members start, it’s World War III. Archie puts his hand on his father’s shoulder, his face contorting with the same knowledge as Jughead. Knowing it was about to start. “Final? You’re sending our own out there while the ATF have their eye on us, while the Ghoulies are seeking us out, while the SW crew are lurking on the borders to gun us down too -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have to worry about the Stone Wall Crew!” Edgar spits, standing from his chair now. “I’ve spoken to Bret, what we have to worry about is you keeping in line, old man! And until you’re in this President’s seat, I suggest you shut up!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead can see Fred starting to rise in his own seat but Archie hisses something inaudibly at him that makes him sit down again. “Fine. Sweet Pea and Soup can go, but I’ll be on the phone to Toledo myself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s us, Sweets!” Soup says, grin growing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But -” Sweet Pea starts but he’s cut off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No buts!” Edgar shouts and both of them shut up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie leans back in his chair before saying. “I’ll do a scan over the club house,” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fred finally speaks from the table. “We need to get everything out before the ATF show. Anything else other than the firearms, I’ll take home in the pickup.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That settles it then,” Edgar says. “Plan’s in place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone leaves the table, Fred slowly getting up from his chair lingers long enough until it’s only him and Jughead left in the room. “I’ll be on the phone to Ant. See if he and the Toledo boys can meet Soup and Sweets half way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead knows Anthony Topaz would do anything for the club. As one of the remaining founding members, his loyalty ran strong and true. Toni used to be the same way as her father until her addiction took over her. “Ant won’t hesitate to help out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fred looks out the club room window that looks onto the bar of the Whyte Wyrm.“That’s how he used to talk to your father, Jug,” he murmurs. “Never gave him a chance to breathe. That’s not a leader. That’s a dictator.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks up at his father’s best friend, searching for something, anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets an answer just from Fred’s look. He knows Fred is right. Something’s gotta give.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>With all of her multidisciplinary meetings done, Veronica was thankful for a day away from theatre. She’d spent so much time under the bright lights of surgery, she was starting to fall behind on her paperwork. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her office was modest. Riverdale General didn’t have the flashy tech items or the fancy offices like the practice she left in New York, but it didn’t matter. Being home, looking after her own was what she wanted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting down at her desk, she sorts through the files of her youngest and littlest patients. Smiling down at the files, she feels a sense of pride. Not in herself, but the little battlers that she works with every day. The survivors. They have a strength she’d never be able to understand no matter how hard she tried. She looks at Nathanial’s file, adding notes to it, her heart aches. She tried not to mix her personal life with her work one, but that baby already had a soft spot in the corner of her heart and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Just like she couldn’t do anything about the soft spot she keeps for his father as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica is pulled from the files when she hears her office door open. Looking up, she’s faced with fear itself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick St. Clair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing up quickly, she looks around her desk to find something, anything at all that might hurt if struck by it. All she sees is the pen she was using, taking a mental note of its exact whereabouts, just in case she needs to grab it quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick’s smile is both sickening and smooth. He saunters in slowly, fingers dancing along the walls of her office, touching everything that belongs to her. She feels a lump rising up her throat, unsure if it were just nerves, or the sensation of becoming sick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not supposed to be here, Nick,” she says slowly, trying to find refuge behind her desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He puts up his hands as if in truce but he still smiles and it still doesn’t feel right. “I just wanted to say hello, Veronica, I don’t want to hurt you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?!” she hisses, gritting her teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses on the other side of her desk, taking a seat on one of the office chairs. “I just thought it would be rude if I came to Riverdale and didn’t make myself known to you, you know, considering the restraining order…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica can feel him on her skin, his smug smile even when she blinks. She tries to keep the sickness from her voice, not wanting to anger him. “That’s the point of the restraining order, you’re not supposed to make yourself known to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh Veronica, you’re so funny!” he laughs manically. “I’m in town for a while, I’m working on a case with the ATF…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything, still aware of the distance between her fingers and the pen she’s willing to plunge into his skin if necessary. “What does that have to do with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to take down the Southside Serpents. They’re going to be gone for a long, long time. So, you tell me what it has to do with you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica thinks of Jughead. Wishing he were here now and would randomly pop into her office. She thinks about Nick’s new case and what it might mean for Jughead and the club. As much as she knows that the Serpents are no good, she can’t bear the idea of Jughead being locked up for a long time, just as Nick is promising. “Nothing,” she mutters. “It has nothing to do with me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Nick grins. “I worry for you, Veronica. You know everything I’ve done for you is only to keep you safe.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get out,” she whispers, screwing her eyes shut. “Before I call security.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick doesn’t argue, he doesn’t fight at all. He just gets up slowly, leaving the room in one swift movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica slumps down into her chair, grabbing the pen that laid on her desk, she clutches onto it tightly.  Trying to take a few steadying breaths, she feels tears streaming down her face, unable to control them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels her anger building inside of her, her fists clench and she throws them at her desk, pushing the files off, trying to hold in a scream. Scrambling for her phone, she scrolls the names until she finds Jughead’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t call him. But she needs him. She knows she does.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Gladys watches a cutlass drive through the yard of Whyte Wyrm, pulling up to the car yard section of the snake pit. Jones-Swan Automotive was already full, they couldn’t take on another car for another week. But after seeing Miss Veronica Lodge driving it, she knew Jughead would make space for the cutlass in JS. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys couldn’t understand why Miss Lodge would want to move back to Riverdale. She made it pretty clear when she left all those years ago, leaving her son for heart-dead that she wouldn’t come back here. It was a promise, and Gladys knew Hiram and Hermione Lodge well enough that Lodges kept their promises, unless that was only when it came to running drug cartels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was pretty, she’d give the doctor that. She’d gotten better with age and that wouldn’t help Jughead at all. Gladys was worried that the one girl that stole his heart would only tighten her grip on him. If they couldn’t see it, she definitely could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she needed to stop it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Good Doctor was not a good match for her son. He was to be the Serpent King one day and he wouldn’t be able to take that throne if he was running away back to New York to live a simple life with Veronica. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as she hated the junkie, at least she was born in the snake pit too. She’d let Jughead rule and she’d do it without complaint. Toni would let Gladys’s son be the man he was destined to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica finally gets out of the cutlass and Gladys sees her son come out of the garage, throwing his rag over his shoulder. “Hey! What are you doing here?!” she hears him ask Veronica as he walks towards her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys moves closer to the pair, leaning on a car just a couple down from the cutlass, pretending to be messaging on her phone, she listens in to the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It needs a tune up,” Veronica laughs. “It’s been down in the garage of the Pembrooke for I don’t know how long, but she doesn’t run as smooth as she used to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure the boys don’t touch it. Hell, if Betty didn’t want to kill me half the time, I’d ask her to come and look at it for you. She’s got the touch when it comes to classics like this,” Jughead tells her, looking through the window into the car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Archie will do,” Veronica replies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead nods. “Yeah, better him than me.” Gladys can tell the conversation is easy. It didn’t matter how long it had been, Veronica had slipped straight back into his life like she had never left. Jughead carries on. “You want me to take you back to work while I get Arch to take a look?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m going home, I’ll just catch a cab…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” he replies quickly. “No way…” he looks around the yard, “Here, I’ll ask my mom. She’ll take you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys looks up from her phone, tucking it back in her pocket. “What’s that, baby?” she pretends to not hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V needs to head home, but she’s leaving her car here. Can you take her?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys can sense the discomfort in the doctor. Keeping her smirk small, she nods “Of course I can, baby,” she plants a kiss on Jughead’s cheek. Walking past Veronica, she heads towards her own car. “Come on, Doc.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can hear the hesitation in Veronica’s hum but she follows behind Gladys anyway. “Thanks, Gladys,” Veronica says as she approaches her car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica throws her bag onto the seat first, Gladys sees it fall open as she waits for her to get into the passenger's seat, noticing a small handgun half hidden under the contents of the bag. Veronica finally slips into the car, grabbing her bag and putting it on her lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys keeps her amusement to herself. “Still at the Pembrooke, darlin’?” she asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I am.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So the Good Doctor wasn’t so good after all, Gladys thinks.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jughead, Souphead, Sweet Pea and Reggie sit in the blacked out van in front of the Poisons club house. “That’s it there?” Jughead says, pointing to a shaggy dog sitting at the front door. “That’s what you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead nods. “Yeah. I’ve met it. It’s a good dog.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Sweet Pea starts sarcastically. “Good dog is he? Pays his taxes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead rolls his eyes, settling into the seat in the back of the van. “I don’t want to be part of this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead will never know how he gets dragged into his brothers’ hijinx. Or why he’s sitting in a van, trying to figure out how to kidnap a dog. But, here he is. Listening to three of them decide how they’re going to get it in the van without the Poisons finding out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You go and do it!” Souphead says to Reggie, kicking him with his boot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie grimaces. “Ouch! You fucker!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea just leans back in the seat next to Jughead, putting his hand behind his head. “If you two pussies are scared, I’ll go and get the dog, but one of you will need to sort it out first.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie and Souphead exchange glances before Reggie pipes up. “Yeah, okay, I have a plan.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a plan?” Jughead says with amusement. “I gotta see this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie doesn’t wait. He throws himself out of the van and bolts towards the dog. The dog gets up and walks away but Reggie continues following it until they can’t see him anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if the Poisons got him?” Souphead asks. “I can’t see that idiot anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead laughs. “Imagine being held hostage by a girl gang, I can think of worse things.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amen brother,” Sweet Pea agrees. “Wish they’d come after us more than the Ghoulies do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie slams his hands on the window of the van. “Sweet Pea!” he hisses. “It’s done!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do?” Sweet Pea asks, looking out the window before following Reggie outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drugged the dog. Should be asleep now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead groans, rubbing his face. “You knocked the fucking dog out?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up!” Sweet Pea hisses back into the van. “We’ll be back with the dog.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead watches the two of them sneak away in the dark. Closing his eyes, he rests for a while, wishing that for once, he’d have a normal night that might conclude with some sleep. His conscience never lets him rest. It just weighs too heavy all the time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he can drift off, he can hear barking followed by fast paced footsteps sprinting towards them. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Sweet Pea shouts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead swings it open and Jughead watches from inside. The dog was frothing from the mouth, running so fast, it just misses Reggie as he flies through the van door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea screams though, barely making it to the van. Clutching on to the van door, he twists and contorts until they see the dog is latched on to his ass. Managing to kick it off, the dog falls to the ground, knocked out cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea scrambles into the van, his hand moves to his behind and back, blood smeared on his hand. “What the FUCK did you give that dog?! I thought you had given it sleeping pills!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It should have passed out!” Reggie argues. “I gave the dog like three grams of crank!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea’s face drops. “You gave the dog crystal meth!” he snaps, punching Reggie’s shoulder. “You just turned it into the fucking Hulk!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead leaps out of the van, picking up the knocked out dog, he puts it into the trunk of the van. “Let’s go before it wakes up!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They speed away with the newest member of the club knocked out in the back. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s mom had been running A Taste of Riverdale since he was only a kid. For all her flaws as the Outlaw Wife, Riverdale seems to turn a blind eye to it when she’s paying for the biggest night of the year for the town and fundraising money for charity along with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead watches his mom kiss his step father’s cheek and they both giggle in the Spring air. He loves seeing his mom happy, and Edgar too. Things had been rocky amongst the entire club for a while now, watching them enjoy each other’s company was a breath of fresh air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie, Betty and the kids walk up to where Jughead was sitting outside of a food truck. Betty takes a seat and a few of Jughead’s fries as she sits down. Betty was one of his best friends and had been for his entire life, but after Archie’s two year stint in prison, their friendship never recovered. She blamed the club, but she blamed him more. He was supposed to protect Archie and he couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you came out, Betts,” he tells her. He ruffles both Ellie and Freddie’s hair and gives them his fries before chucking them a twenty dollar note. “You two go and hassle Nanna Gladys for a while, see if she can give you guys any more money to add to that stash, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty stands up but before following her kids, she turns to her husband and Jughead. “Family only stuff today, okay?” she warns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both wait for Betty to walk away before Jughead speaks again. “Dilton’s here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie nods. He understands what Jughead is implying. Jughead had organised for Dilton and Archie to sort out their differences. Even though Jughead couldn’t have protected Archie from going to prison, he can right the wrongs that were done to Archie by Dilton. Dilton was the only one who could have protected Archie the day he was arrested. He was there with him and he fled the scene, leaving his brother to face it alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead points Dilton out in the crowd and Archie’s eyes bead. As they scan the crowd, Jughead spots Veronica. He moves from the table, patting Archie on the back, he begins to walk away. Leaving his brother with his thoughts, he decides to head to Veronica. “You tell me what you want to do about Dilton, Arch.” </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Hey you,” sounds from behind Veronica and she can’t help but smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead is behind her and for the first time in a while, she sees a genuine smile. Not one clouded by the fear that his son might not make it. Not hiding behind the worries of the club. He’s smiling and he’s smiling at </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His jeans are torn, his boots are scuffed and his Serpents kutte is still on him, proudly, even when he’s surrounded by the people of Riverdale. But right now, she doesn’t care. She’s just as happy to see him as he is to see her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mom still puts on a good family day,” she says, looking around at all the activities going on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think she loves A Taste of Riverdale more than she loves me,” he laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica laughs too, but she knows that’s not true. Gladys Jones loves nothing more than her beloved son. “You helping out with it too?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not really,” he replies. “Arch is supposed to be doing the fireworks later so that'll be cool… If I’m around to see them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her smile drops just a little. He didn’t have intentions on staying which means he wouldn’t be able to stay with her. “I hope you’re around to see them,” she mumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead tilts her head with his fingers, his smile so close to her lips. “I only want to be around to see you, V,” he whispers. He places a soft kiss against her smile. “I still can’t believe you’re back.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, Veronica can’t believe it either. He kisses her, surrounded by a crowd of people as if there wasn’t ten years in between of him not kissing her at all. “Jughead,” she murmurs. “We shouldn’t be doing this…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing what?” he asks, putting his forehead to hers, their noses touching. So close, but yet so far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever this is,” she breathes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just really, really fucking missed you, Veronica,” he replies in a whisper. “So much, I couldn’t breathe…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“JUGHEAD!” they hear being shouted over the masses of people. “GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys Jones summons her son, just as she always does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that, he’s pulled from Veronica’s heart just as he always is.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jughead walks into the town hall. The sound of pounding flesh is both therapeutic and anxiety inducing. He loves the sound. It’s the sound of control, but it doesn’t mean he likes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie’s fists are bloody but so is his face. His lip is split open, there’s a split on his eyebrow as well but now, he has Dilton on the floor, Archie’s fists caving in his skull. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s presence makes them stop and Dilton’s face, though bruised, bloody and blackened, still manages to force a smile. “Hey, Jug,” he says with a slur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie hops off Dilton, making his way to the hall’s bathroom, both Dilton and Jughead follow him too. “You guys sort it out?” Jughead asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both of them nod, running taps, they wipe their faces clean. “I miss it, man,” Dilton says with a mouth full of blood. “Everything. I want back into the club.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie gives Jughead a sideways glance before giving him a hidden wink. Jughead takes on the cue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dilton still wears his serpent tattoo on his back. The one he was supposed to remove when he betrayed his brother and his club. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not letting on, Jughead replies. “I’m sure you do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I do to get back in?” Dilton begs. “Archie and I have sorted our differences. The Serpents were my only home. My brothers. When I left Archie to get stung, I was only thinking about my kids not having a dad.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My kids didn’t have a dad for two years,” Archie mumbles, but Jughead shoots him a glare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie will get his revenge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on over to the Whyte Wyrm,” Jughead says, faking a smile. “Maybe we can talk to Ed…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you!” Dilton says, throwing his arms around Jughead’s neck. “I promise I won’t let you guys down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead wishes he felt more. He feels like he should. He was setting a man up that he once called his brother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now he’s looking at a dead man walking. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>He left Archie to set up the fireworks because otherwise Archie would have to answer to both Gladys and Betty, and Jughead didn’t know which woman was worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting at the bar of the Whyte Wyrm, he gives Souphead a look to tell him to get ready. He gives one to Fred who walks slowly out of the bar, heading towards the workshop of JS and then his final look goes to his stepfather who finds it hard to contain his absolute delight of what was about to happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dilton knocks beer bottles with Edgar before sighing with relief. “It feels good to be sitting in here with my brothers. I’ve missed this so much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joaquin cringes against the neck of his beer bottle and Fangs forces himself to make a noise in agreeance. Sweet Pea stands up. “Want to see my new Stinger?” he asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dilton nods, raising his bottle into the air. “I call bullshit, you don’t have a stinger!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come, check it out,” Sweet Pea coaxes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dilton follows behind Sweet Pea and so do the rest of the crew. Edgar and Jughead fall back. “You sure I’m not gonna pull that shirt off and see nothing on his back?” Edgar warns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got the word from Archie,” he replies. “There’s a snake on his back that wasn’t blacked out or removed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They get into the workshop and Dilton’s faced with no stinger. “Where’s the bike?” he laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks around at his crew. Everyone’s faces are fallen and deadpan. He can smell the fear coming off Dilton already. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar stands tall. “Take his shirt off.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dilton cowers into a corner, looking at Joaquin and Fangs as they approach him. “No! Shit, no!” they rip his shirt off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As clear as day, the Southside Serpent patch is still on his skin. “What do we have here?” Edgar taunts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dilton breathes loudly and shakily, eyes darting everywhere. “Please, Jug, I can explain.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead stands silently. The betrayal to his brother, to Archie, to the club made Jughead’s burning rage deep inside of him flare up. He has no sorrow for Dilton. No sympathy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he has is a fire that he wants to unleash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re supposed to get that removed when you’re exiled, Dilton,” Edgar continues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead spots Fred standing in the distance, sharpening a knife. Satisfaction grows on the old man’s face as he watches his son’s betrayer cower with fear. “I kept going to the parlor, I was going to get it blacked out but I couldn’t - it’s all I have!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar just chuckles. “Fire or knife?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room falls silent except for heavy breaths coming from Dilton. “What?” he stammers, fear growing in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fire,” Edgar repeats. “Or knife.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dilton struggles against Joaquin and Fangs, kicking his legs, trying to tear his arms from their grasps. Finally, he gives up. “Fire,” he mumbles with defeat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joaquin and Fangs drag him, his legs giving out beneath him, to the frame where they keep their machinery. Hooking his right arm up with a chain, Jughead offers Dilton a bottle of whiskey, putting it in his left hand that he throws back, taking as much in as possible. When he’s done, they chain his left hand to the frame too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead’s eyes almost change as he sparks up the blow torch. Almost in a trance as he watches the flame spit out and how it glows as it approaches Dilton’s skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks at Fred who watches the scene unfolding in front of him. No feeling. No shock, He’d seen more than all of the crew put together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar stands leaning against the wall as he watches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks on, sparking a cigarette and taking a drag while he listens to the sound of Dilton’s demise, thinking about his father’s manuscript and if there were any words his father had to written down to describe the feelings he felt when it came to his brothers and their deception.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead makes a promise to read his father’s words and find out for himself. </span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With the older I got, I realised that with age did not come wisdom. It instead brought a hardness I thought I would never feel. I feared nothing, I was shocked by nothing. Nothing got a reaction out of me anymore. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Age brought a tiredness in me that meant I wasn’t my true self. I didn’t want to be hard and tired. I wanted to be me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The one thing that still came to me with age was the inevitability of death. It was the one thing I could rely on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. we were the ones when faced, people ran from</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>we were the ones when faced, people ran from </strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When faced with fear, the normal person runs. Our club is run with strict codes. Stare fear in the face. We told ourselves we were both the Devil and our own God. It got to a point that staring fear in the face meant nothing. There was no fear anymore. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We were fear. And that, son, was when walking the line of justice and injustice became shaky. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We were the ones when faced, people ran from. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>....</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead hears the breath being knocked out of Souphead’s body closely followed by his own. Archie’s yells of; “Hey, hey! HEY!” are heard throughout the Whyte Wyrm, chasing after two officers that are hacking into the wall that has the mugshots of all the Serpents members framed and on display. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks over at Souphead, back slammed onto the floor, cheeks flush against the cold tiles and  hands tied behind his back with cable ties. It didn’t matter how prepared they were for the raid, the adrenaline still pulsed through him, trying to swallow down his anger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears the crashing going around them. Bottles falling to the ground, glasses shattering everywhere. The sound of their falling bikes coming from outside is what hurt the most. He can almost see the agents with their steel capped boots pushing their bikes to the ground. Paint jobs being scratched, badges being torn off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, Jughead can still hear Archie which means he hadn’t been restrained. “YOU CAN’T GO IN TH-” his shouts are cut off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knows it, Archie is on the ground face first next to Jughead on his left. He watches Archie cough, blood spilling from his mouth. “You okay, Arch?” he asks his brother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie just nods. “They were in the clubroom, pulling down all our shit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Jughead replies simply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continues listening to the scene around him. More shattering, more yelling, more high pitched cackles from the authorities. They’d be all but burning down the Whyte Wyrm, he knows it. He can feel it in the air as his home crumbles around him. Somewhere in the place, he hears a wall being busted, more crashing around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t matter how much he told himself that this would inevitably happen. He wants someone to pay for this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown out the noise, reminding himself that they wouldn’t be caught with anything. Souphead and Sweet Pea had made the run to Toledo and everything that they needed safe was there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he feels a boot digging into his rib cage, looking up at the person standing on him, he’s met with a woman. “Jughead Jones, I believe?” she asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An officer behind him yanks him up by the wrists, stumbling around before finding his footing, he spits on the ground in front of her, his snarl unable to be contained on his lips. “What’s it to you?” he snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives him an amused smile, pink lips curling up on the side. She tucks her hair behind her ears before offering him her right hand. “Agent Grundy, ATF,” she announces before pouting, mocking him for his hands being tied behind him. “No handshake I guess…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead spits again, glancing down at his brothers on the floor. “Do you officers have a warrant?!” he asks, jerking back and forth trying to break free from the officer that still holds him from behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you mean this?” Agent Grundy asks, waving a piece of paper in front of him. “Sheriff Keller wasn’t so hesitant to help us out with this… I guess he’s not on your payroll?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead pulls again, another agent comes into view, this time a male who can’t seem to keep his eyes off Jughead. The agent drops a box of items at Jughead’s feet that makes him want to headbutt him to the ground. “Found something else, Agent Grundy,” the male says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drops down into a squat, rummaging through the few items the Serpents still have of FP’s. His various mugshots, part of his original, old and worn kutte, the bottle of the last beer he drank with the club and other bits and pieces. She handles them with no regard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead watches on, a rattle in his throat, a twitch in his fists behind him. Keeping his mouth shut, he tries to stand as still as possible, no matter how much he wants to lunge at them. He doesn’t want a reason for them to lock him up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, well, well,” the male agent starts, moving closer until he’s in Jughead’s face. “This is the famous snake pit, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he approaches, he holds a hot coffee. Jughead is tempted to knock it into the agent's face but instead he smiles back. “Yeah,” he says, faking friendliness. “What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent stands, straightening his shoulders. “Agent Nick St. Clair.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You a motorhead, Nick?” Jughead asks, his grin is malicious. “want to join us motorcycle enthusiasts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going away for a long, long time, Mister Jones,” the agent says. Before Jughead can comprehend what he was doing right in front of him, he sees the coffee spilling out into the box of his father’s belongings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick smiles as he slowly pours the coffee, Jughead lunges, but he’s restrained by two more officers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick has a death wish, Jughead decides. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Veronica looks through the glass window, she can’t contain her smile. She would stand here watching all day if she could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead holds Nathanial with a tenderness she hadn’t seen in him for a long time. She watches him stroke the fine, transparent hairs on his head and whisper words against his son that she can’t hear. That was the Jughead she remembers. The one she fell in love with as a blinded, sixteen year old girl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Checking Nathanial’s chart, she takes it into the room with her and she’s greeted with Jughead’s smile. “I was going to ask you the next time I saw you if Ed and mom could come in to see the baby later. Ed’s eager to hold his grandson…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica never had much to do with Edgar, but judging on his prior relationships with her father’s cartel and the absolute pride he has in his stepson, she knows he’s just as dangerous as the rumours say he is. But, if he was anything like his wife, family comes first. Veronica could never deny the love they have for their family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was so much, it would make anyone cower with fear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Veronica says, nodding. “I’ll still be around this evening if they want to pop in.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead simply smiles, looking back down at his son. “I never thought I’d be here, you know…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica takes a seat next to him, placing her hand on Jughead’s knee as she looks at the father and son. She never thought she’d be here either. She always thought that the life and home she made in New York would be there forever. She promised she’d never come back to Riverdale. Never see Jughead again. She spent years thinking about it, trying to get him out of her system, her heart. It had taken so long, but she did it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now she feels him in her all over again and it was hard to ignore when the beating in her chest as she watches him with Nathanial, when he smiles so sweetly, when in these quiet moments, he reminds her of when they were young. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think I would be either,” she tells him honestly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t look up but his shoulders soften and so does the expression on his face. “It makes me wonder, when I see you, just how differently everything would have been…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead doesn’t need to say more. She reads him loud and clear. She wonders too how their life would have played out if he had gone with her, if she had stayed here with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit in comfortable silence, she keeps close to him, her thumb moving slowly on his knee and his son remains calm in his arms. Veronica notices movement beyond the glass, looking up, she’s met with the uneasy grin of Nick St. Clair who stares in for only a moment before slowly walking away. Veronica’s skin feels like it’s splitting until she’s brought back with the sound of Jughead’s voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking bastard,” he hisses, slowly putting his son back into the hospital bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica freezes. Nick must have kept his promise, getting in with the Serpents. Jughead recognised him. She didn’t know what to feel. All she knows is that it’s fear. But fear for what Nick would do to Jughead? Or fear for what Jughead would do to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the fear was for the fact that Nick was in the hospital and she needed to go home at some point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She inhales deeply, begging for some sort of strength to speak. “Do you know him?” she asks instead, cursing herself for not telling Jughead the truth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he sniggers, tucking his hands into his jeans. “He came in, raided the clubhouse. He’s out to get me. I bet that’s why he’s here now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right…” she answers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches Jughead flutter around the room, tucking his son into the sheets, straightening out the teddy bears the club had dropped off over time. “I can’t believe my son won’t be out until he’s three months old,” he mutters but Veronica barely hears it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mind is stuck on Nick and how he’s in the same walls as her. That he was in the same walls as Jughead, at the Whyte Wyrm. Before she can stop herself, she blurts out; “He’s here for me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead pauses, a look of confusion written all over his face. “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The agent,” she says, running out of breath. She inhales sharply again, fingers playing with her stethoscope. “Nick St. Clair. We dated when I was in New York, he was possessive… I have a restraining order out on him but he’s here for me, and I think he knows we’re connected.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s face contorts. Exhaling through his nose, he runs a hand through his hair before storming out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches the snake on his Serpents patch slither on his back as he busts through the doors of the hospital. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jughead walks through the police station without anyone batting an eyelid. Tom barely looks up from his coffee cup but Kevin does, standing up, he puts his hands in the air. “Woah, woah, woah,” Kevin says, looking at Jughead sideways. “What’s happening, Jug?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead takes a breath, trying to centre himself. The agent might be shady, but it had nothing to do with Kevin. He was doing his job and that’s all that matters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the agent had to go and to save Kevin the hassle of a bloody clean up, he’d do the right thing by him and by Veronica and tell the Sheriff the truth about the agent in town. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kev,” he says calmly. “The agent is out to get Veronica.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The agent?” he asks, confused. “Grundy?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The guy,” Jughead spits, still reeling from the revelation that the agent was with Veronica. “He used to date Veronica, she has a restraining order out on him. He came to Riverdale to try and hunt her.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin stiffens his back, closing the door of his office behind Jughead, he leans in closer. “Who told you this?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica!” Jughead snaps, struggling to keep his cool. “And I’m telling you because you’re my friend and you’re Veronica’s friend too. But if you don’t do this on your side of the law, I’ll tidy it up on mine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” Kevin hisses, banging his fist on his desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead leaves without saying a word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not so sure he can keep himself from tidying things up anyways.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Gladys had pulled all the guns she has stored in old shoe boxes out of the wardrobe, sorting through them, she found one she thought would fit the Doctor’s delicate hands perfectly. She was a surgeon after all and though her hands were small, she knew they would have a lot of strength to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would give her something with a bit of guts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys wasn’t sure why Veronica would need a gun. Or if she even knew how to use it, but she finds herself with a small handgun in her bag, something a little stronger than the one that was hidden in Veronica’s purse, driving to the Pembrooke to deliver it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys wasn’t sure about Veronica, but over the last couple of months with watching her look after her grandbaby, with watching her snap back and show strength, Gladys thought that she showed some potential. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if she needed protecting, Gladys would at least provide the girl with a decent gun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling up to the outside of the Pembrooke, she sees Veronica on the other side of the road, hopping out of her newly serviced Cutlass. Jumping out of her own car, Gladys calls out to her. “Hey!” she shouts. “Pretty girl, you going inside?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys is amused at the shocked look on Veronica’s face. Watching the girl eye her sideways, she walks across the street. “Yeah, are you okay, Gladys?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys smiles, shaking her handbag in front of Veronica. “I got a couple of things you might want. Woman to woman and all that shit…. You gonna let me in?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica keeps eyeing sideways. “Sure.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys follows Veronica inside, getting up to the Penthouse suite, she looks around. “Your mother always did have good taste…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica chuckles, setting her bag of scrubs on the dining room table before turning to Gladys. “What do you want, Gladys?” she asks straight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She keeps looking around at the trinkets that belong to the Lodges, knowing full well that one of those fancy looking decorative eggs would cost a pretty penny. Turning back around to look at Veronica, she’s impressed at the glower the young girl gives her, at the way her hands are plastered to her hips. She can tell Veronica doesn’t trust her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. The less people Veronica trusts, Gladys thinks, the tougher she is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> strong enough after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gladys goes to her hand bag, pulling out a couple of guns she sets them on the table. “These will kick a bigger punch than that old thing in your bag, Doc.” </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jughead sits at the table in the clubroom with Edgar. Running through their plan with the Ghoulies, they finally agree on something. Jason Blossom will deal firearms to the Serpents and sell to the Ghoulies while the Ghoulies maintain their drug trade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door bursts open, slamming against the wall with Reggie out of breath, hands on his knees as he’s hunched over. Edgar barely pulls his eyes from Jughead to look at Reggie. “You better be here to tell me Hell’s frozen over with that entrance, Reggie…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie can barely force out the words through trying to breathe. “I was keeping watch on your house, Jug. That Agent, the dude, the one who fucked you over, he was there, brother, I couldn’t get to him, it was overrun with ATF Agents.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead can barely hear the rest as Reggie forces out more words. The venom that pools at the back of his jaw flares up, his fists clench. There’s a buzzing at the back of his skull that fuels his rage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar throws himself up, going over to Reggie, he places a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for warning us, brother.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was in Nathanial’s room, he pushed everything over, trashed the fucking room! The baby’s shit is everywhere!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you follow him?!” Jughead asks, gripping into Reggie’s shoulders with both his hands, spittal flying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie nods. “He was going to Lloyd’s for a haircut, he was there about five minutes ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead storms outside, kicking his V-rod into gear. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>He knows Lloyd can see him approaching his barber shop. When Jughead enters the shop, Lloyd has a small smile, stepping back from the ATF Agent’s head with his clippers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick St. Clair has his eyes closed but as Jughead flies towards him, hands going straight for his neck, his eyes widen, fear evident in his look. “Call someone!” he shouts to Lloyd but the old man shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lloyd’s loyalties lie with the people he knows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead doesn’t stop to listen to Nick’s pleas. His anger is white, blinding and furious. It’s static and deafening. He holds the man by the scruff of his neck, leaning over him, Jughead hisses. “You go into my house. You abuse my things. You destroy </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> son’s room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick’s face finally falls into a menacing grin, eyes darkening before him. “You’re an outlaw. You’re a murderer and you’ll never, ever get Veronica Lodge.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead doesn’t care for his petty words but the sound of Veronica’s name out of his mouth sets him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Throwing a punch against the agent’s jaw, he finds that his fist makes a pretty sound against his skin. The next three only sound better once the air is knocked out of the Agent’s lungs. A fourth is met with blood that is ruby red from his split skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Nick manages to force his way up, landing a punch on Jughead’s face this time, but again, he gets Nick by the neck, throwing him against the glass window that shatters loudly around them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick lies on broken glass, skin all battered and bruised, the red of his blood running down his face but Jughead kicks him in the ribs, watching him curl up in pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he spits, pointing his finger at the body on the ground. “Mess with me or my family again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead turns to Lloyd, giving him a sympathetic look to apologise for the mess. “See ya Lloyd,” he mumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lloyd nods. “I’ll send the invoice to your mom, Jug.” </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The darkened form sitting outside of the Pembrooke was easy to make out. She’d seen that same form sitting outside in the cold many times when she was young. Most of the time back then, he was a melancholic mess or a caffeine induced night owl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time he’s a man who’s worn, leaning on the building with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches her approach and she can make out the outline of his smile under glowing street lights, lifting her hand to wave, he waves back. “Princess,” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The street lights don’t hide the bruises on his face, or the split in his lip. She frowns at him when she meets him, lifting her hand again, she traces the injuries softly with her hand. “Shit, Jug,” she murmurs, concern evident in her voice. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His chuckle is not humorous. It’s dark and worrisome. “Paid a visit to Agent Nick St. Clair,” he says with a sigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” Veronica breaths, her heart beginning to race. What if he gets locked away? Just like Nick had said would happen. She moves her hands down Jughead’s body to his own, grabbing them tightly, not wanting to let him go. “And?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then I went to Kevin. And he and Tom have sent him back to New York. He’s not allowed to work on the Riverdale ATF case and he won’t be back… I saw him leave town, V. You’re safe now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica opens and closes her mouth. Lost for words, she can’t do anything but hold Jughead’s hands tighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dropping her head to his chest, she lets the tears run as he strokes her hair. She feels him kiss her hair gently, holding her closer. Never letting her go, just like she didn’t want to. “You’re okay, Veronica,” he whispers. “You know I’d never let anyone hurt you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rain starts to fall and he rocks her on the spot, keeping her close. Just like he always did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels safe. She feels protected by the only man who could ever look after her the way she needed to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He always told her he couldn’t live without her. Now she understands, because she doesn’t think she can live without him either. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“The House of the Dead?” Reggie asks, approaching the clubhouse of the Ghoulies. “That’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead rolls his eyes. “We call ours The Snakepit,” he shrugs. “Not that different I don’t think.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead follows behind them with Edgar as they walk up the steps to the entrance. Two of Malachi’s men look over them, patting them down but for what reason? None of them are sure as they still walk in with all their weapons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi sits at his table in his clubroom, lifting his arms, he greets them as if they’re old friends. “Serpents!” he calls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead, Sweet Pea and Fangs flank to Edgar’s side who takes a seat on the opposite side of the table to Malachi. “Haven’t been into the belly of the beast since your old man ran this joint,” says Edgar, taking a look around. “Gotta say, it hasn’t changed much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi just glares, watching every movement from every one of the Serpents. Jughead keeps his eyes just as close on Malachi’s men too, feeling the atmosphere chop and change with every passing second. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows his blade is probably the quickest to work with, he knows for a fact these guys are short of firearms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi starts. “You’re here to talk business,” he announces. “Ironic considering you guys killed one of my men.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, wait,” Jughead says, stepping forward. He ignores the seething glare from his stepfather. He would not stand for being accused for making the first move. “You guys,” he says, holding his arms up to all of the Ghoulies surrounding them. “Burnt down </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> warehouse, you came onto </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> turf and sought </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> out to attempt an attack and now you’re starting with us killing one of your men?!” his hand flinches, just brushing on his blade before rethinking the move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi nods along, leaning back in his chair nonchalant, he agrees. “Yeah, well, that did happen.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar scowls at Jughead before turning back to Malachi. “If we’re going to talk business, we’ll have to put that in the past just as good businessmen do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bit late to say we’re good businessmen,” Jughead mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what do you propose?” Malachi asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My son and I,” Edgar begins. “Thought of a good solution. We maintain firearms with Jason Blossom, we sell to you if needed, you take hold of Jason’s drug trade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Malachi can answer, there’s a disturbance in the background. “I’m with them,” he hears coming from Archie who stumbles in, two Ghoulies attached to his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let him in!” Edgar calls but he shoots another glare at Jughead and he knows he’ll have to pay for this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie gets to Jughead’s side. “Sorry, bro,” he mumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead holds back a snarky response, instead he just looks at Archie, trying to let him know that he fucked up. Malachi finally speaks. “Okay, sounds fair. I guess we’re in business.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room fills with cheers and patting of backs. It had been a long time since the Ghoulies and Serpents agreed on anything, but times were changing, Jughead could feel it in his bones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edgar gets up from his chair, giving Malachi a hug before turning to his crew. When he gets to Jughead, he leans in, hugging his son too. “I don’t trust Archie, son,” he whispers. “And it’s on your head…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks over at his brother, fearful for him, fearful for himself. Fearful for the reason why Archie was late to the biggest meeting of the club. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Things had been quiet for a while since the Serpents and Ghoulies finally made peace. Jughead had worked overtime at the mechanics, catching up on things at JS Automotive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirens echo through the yard and for the first time in a long time, Jughead was enjoying the peace and quiet. “Fuck!” he groans, hearing them get nearer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead comes out of the bathroom and Jughead looks over at him, watching his face first light up with confusion then turn into a grimace. “Fuck!” he groans. “For real?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows Souphead is thinking the same thing as him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cops. Again. And this time, they don’t know why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting up off the ground from under a fancy BMW, he looks out to the road but instead of being met with the police, he’s met with a speeding Ambulance coming down the driveway. On closer inspection, he can see Reggie’s smile, beaming through the front window as he drives the Ambulance in. “I got us something!” he calls out the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beeping his way further down the driveway, he ends up parking the ambulance just outside the garage. Jughead rolls his eyes, throwing the towel over his shoulder, he walks towards the driver’s door of the ambulance, swinging it open, he pulls Reggie out by his arm. “What the fuck is this, Reg?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie keeps grinning, straightening up his shirt, he looks pleased with himself. “These go for a lot of money, you know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Edgar agrees, making his way to the ambulance, looking it over. “They sure do… I’m sure the fucking government would be just pleased to buy a stolen ambulance from us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Reggie replies slowly, scratching his head. “We don’t have to sell them to the government…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Edgar snaps back, whacking Reggie gently over the head. “We don’t? Who’s going to buy it then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie continues standing there, thinking about his next move when Jughead notices Sweet Pea limping into the garage with Souphead and his new dog chasing after them. “You get that fucking mut away from me!” Sweet Pea snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That mutt has a name you know,” Souphead whines, bending down to pat his dog. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sweet Pea agrees. “Dead.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hot Dog!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead just shakes his head. Though his crew were deadly and unforgiving, he’s reminded of exactly what they are in trueness. A bunch of idiots. “Get rid of the ambulance, Reg,” He calls over his shoulder, getting back to working on a Stinger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you could ask Veronica if she wants to buy it,” Reggie calls after him but Jughead just shoots him a look that makes him cower. Jughead keeps looking at Sweet Pea who clutches at his ass. “And what’s wrong with you?” he shoots at Sweet Pea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea doesn’t even hesitate, right in the middle of the garage, he unbuckles his belt and drops his pants, turning around, he shows the crew a bite mark. From the dog when they stole him, all festering and infected. “The fucking mut is gonna be the reason I die!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Souphead drops his mouth, glaring at Sweet Pea. “His name is Hot Dog and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> respect him!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He tried to bite my ass off, how the fuck do you expect me to react!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead gets a little closer, beading his eyes at the wound on his Sergeant at Arms’ ass torn between laughing and grossed out. “You need to get that fixed, bro,” he warns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got no insurance, I can’t go to the hospital!” Sweet Pea groans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead thinks for a moment before coming up with a plan. “I’ll go to Veronica’s and see what she’ll give us. You hold up, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The excuse came easily. He needed to get away from the boys, but he also needed any reason to see the woman he was falling for all over again. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Even when she’s not on duty, she still flutters around like she has a million things on her mind. Jughead leans against the wall, his arms folded with an amused look on his face. He could do this forever, watching Veronica while she’s busy. Her brow furrows and her concentration is so apparent as she thinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hasn’t changed at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think this might be enough to get by,” says Veronica, handing Jughead a bag full of things she deems fit to fix Sweet Pea’s ass. “You might need to get your mom to help out because she’s the only person I would assume would have any idea how to clean a wound out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” he laughs. “Because she’s done this before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica gives him a dubious look, piling some more gauze on top of the bag in his arms. “No, because she’s a mom and mom’s are good at this shit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a point, Princess,” he agrees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what’s going on, Jug, but I hope it works out okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Same here,” he agrees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stand in silence for a moment. Jughead always thought himself good with words. He’d talked himself out of situations no one would have ever made it out alive from. He had been leading the club alongside Edgar since he was young, always able to come up with the right plans that benefited his club. But he was never good with the words that told anyone how he felt. He could never tell Veronica just how much he loved her back when they were teenagers. And he still struggles now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Putting down the bag on the dining table, he slowly reaches to take her hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” she asks, tilting her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know why. He knows every reason why. For everything, for nothing. For the ten years in between and the months since she had been home that he never acknowledged. He ignores her question, letting instead the tightening feeling in his chest finally take over him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needs to release. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I heard you were home, I spent nights wondering what would happen if we made this work. Every single possible way that you and I could be together…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an obstruction is his throat, he thinks it feels like fear, like pain. Like aching for the woman in front of him that he’s not so sure he can continue to live without. Veronica’s cheeks turn read, she lets her chin fall, her hair falls in her eyes but he keeps holding onto her hands. She smiles weakly. “What did you see? When you were wondering about what would happen?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead sighs, a small smile on his lips that’s laced with longing. Uncertainty. Love ache. “This, exactly what it is,” he murmurs. “You, unsure about everything, me not being able to keep away…” he falls silent for a moment before speaking again. “You, thinking about what fucked up dangerous shit I’m up to… me apologising for it constantly.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It feels like we’ve had this same conversation before,” she whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m the same fucked up guy you left at the bus station ten years ago, I’m the same fucking idiot in the same kutte,” he sighs, picking up the bag from the table, Jughead decides he needs to leave before it gets too hard. “But you’re not. You’re the doctor who went out and made things better for herself…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead goes to the door, opening it slowly, he doesn’t look back but he hears her voice behind him. “No you’re not, Jug,” she replies. “You’re a loving man who’s now a father. It might be the same kutte, but you’re not the same guy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows part of her is right. He’s a loving man who’s now a father. But he’s only loving to one person, and she’s standing there, looking at the same snake on his back as he walks away. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Veronica watches Jughead ride away as she looks out the window of the Pembrooke. Before she can turn around, she feels her body being yanked back, a hand covers her mouth as she attempts to scream and her breath is instantly out of her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her skin feels like it’s tearing, a panic ghosts over her body as she’s met with Nick’s eyes. “NO!” she shouts but it’s too late, Nick drags her into her bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her legs and arms stop moving, the fear takes over her body as he looks at her, dragging his eyes over her body. “Shush, shush,” he soothes too gently and quietly for Veronica to listen to. “I’m not going to hurt you…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not sure. Part of her believes him, she knows he loves her and he wouldn’t do anything to harm her. But she’s scared of something snapping in him. Just like it has before. She tries to inhale through her nose, knowing that keeping calm will keep him calm and she might be able to buy some time to make a plan. Slowly, she convinces her muscles to ease as he forces her onto the bed. “Please, just let me go,” she begs in a whisper, hoping her quiet voice might ease him just enough to let her go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick laughs, throwing his head back. “Do you want to tell me why you left New York?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-uh-” she stammers but she’s cut off, flinching when he speaks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it because of me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica nods slowly. “That’s why I left it’s because…” she doesn’t want to tell him the truth, the begging in his eyes is unhinged, she can tell nothing will sink in without her having to pay for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is your opportunity for you to be honest,” he says with a crazed smile. “Everything out in the open, we can rebuild our relationship!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s nothing that makes Veronica feel sicker than the way he says ‘our relationship’. Swallowing thickly she agrees to do what he says. “I was just so scared, you were a bit possessive,” she forces out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs again. “I know I can be intense,” he says. “I’m a bit much sometimes but I’m willing to change, Veronica. I’m willing to work to get back what we lost.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flares up in Veronica. The anger. Having to try and compromise with Nick, convince him that she’s cooperating makes her face burn, wanting to break free. “We don’t have anything, Nick,” she snaps. “We haven’t lost anything - we never had anything!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she can move, she feels the sharp whip of his hand against her cheek, making it burn and throb. Without thinking, she stands up, aiming to get to the door but again, she feels his hands on her, the rising feeling of disgust takes over her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But suddenly, she’s blank. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Veronica can hear the beat of a song, it repeats over and over again, it cuts in and out as she comes to, unable to keep her eyes open. Her mind shakes and turns. </p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly, she realises she still has her clothes on, but she’s lying on the bed with Nick’s body bare, his shirt is off, but his pants are on and his back is to her. She assesses herself, she feels okay, but her head still throbs. Turning her head to look at Nick she spots his gun on the bedside table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick turns towards her when he realises she’s awake. Veronica tries to keep the fear from her eyes, instead, she gives him a forced smile, trying to keep things quiet, keep him calm. He walks over to the bed, crawling on the bed next to her, he has tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ronnie,” he cries, pushing his head into her neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She strokes his head as she tries to think of what to do next. Coming up with a quick plan, she holds back her own tears as she decides how to execute it. “I know,” she hushes. “I know…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just love you so much,” he sniffs, feeling his tears on her skin. She tries not to recoil, repulsion runs through her but she knows she has to be strong. Act quick. He kisses her on the mouth, forcing his way through. Not accepting the kiss, she gives herself away and she feels his body tense, the anger and frustration in him shows it’s face again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becoming more forceful, she thinks quickly again. “No!” she says quickly, getting a reaction out of him again. She takes another breath, summonsing the courage to go on. “Not like this,” she acts. “Make love to me, please…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick buys it when she slowly dots kisses on his cheeks, his jaw, letting every part of her skin touch him when she finds the strength. She breathes slowly through her nose, trying to keep it together. Finally, she gets him on his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Continuing her kisses, she waits until she sees him relax, letting his body fall deeper into the bed. She never takes her eyes away from his, waiting for the moment that he closes his eyes. One more kiss on his naval, his eyes fall shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica had never moved so fast. Reaching quickly to her bedside table, she takes hold of his gun. It’s only a split second until he realises what’s happened, and he moves too, pushing her body off his while she holds the gun but in a mess of arms and legs, she pulls the trigger, offloading onto his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“FUCK!” he screams. “YOU STUPID BITCH!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she leaps off the bed, holding the gun in front of her, she watches Nick fall to ground before scrambling back up. Clutching his stomach, she can see blood pouring out of him but she keeps the gun steady in her hands. “Call an ambulance!” he yells. “HURRY UP!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica nods, keeping the gun pointed at him, she picks up her phone, calling the first number that comes to mind. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She’s shaky as she paces the living room, gun still in her hand, her bedroom locked only by a chair wedged under the door handle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sweats, it runs down her temples. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica hears the front door click open and as soon as Jughead walks through the door, she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I didn’t know what to do, I was so fucking scared, Jug, I didn’t mean to - “ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is he?” he asks, his lips in her hair. “Show me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica leads him to her room, this time, she feels bile creeping up her throat but the lightheadedness is gone now that Jughead has her hand. He kicks away the chair, opening the handle, he peers in. “Shit,” he says quietly, looking back at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“THIS WAS YOUR PLAN?!” Nick shouts. “YOU CALLED YOUR BIKER BOYFRIEND?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead does a better job at ignoring the yells than she does, he sees no reaction in him, only his concerned look over her, waiting on her move. “I don’t know what to do!” she almost yells. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can call an ambulance, this is your first offence and it’s self defence because of your restraining order and he goes away for a year or so, but after that, he’ll be back to doing this shit again…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thought of him out and coming back for her. “No, no, NO!” she ends up screaming. “I can’t go through this again!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gun is still in her shaky hands, rattling against her. Nick starts up again, he’s curled on the floor, holding onto his gun wound but his face is screwed up with anger. “YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!” he keeps screaming. “ONCE A BIKER WHORE -” he doesn’t get to finish his words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead snatches the gun from Veronica’s grip, storming over to Nick, he unleashes three bullets straight into his brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica can hear screaming, but it doesn’t feel like it’s coming out of her own mouth. A coldness washes over her, she drowns on it as she watches the blood pool around Nick’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches Jughead fall to her bed, dropping his head into his hands as the gun that just killed a man in her own home sits next to him. The screaming stops eventually, but the coldness still drowns her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, she makes her way deep into her room. She looks at the dead body on the floor, half hanging out of the ensuite of the bedroom. She feels nothing when she looks at the blood, nothing when she looks at the body. She feels everything when she looks at the man sitting on her bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point, she sees him stand up from the bed. Jughead stands before Veronica covered in blood. The body lies lifeless on the floor but the anger in Jughead is still seething, spilling out of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica’s body shakes. She hadn’t seen life escape a person so quickly, she had never seen death take its place so eagerly. He was in control of that. He made this. He was the creator of death, he determined someone’s life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of her is scared. Intimidated by the way his eyes only darkened slightly after he fired that shot into the body’s temple like that. Back when it was a living person. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other part loves him even more. He’d kill for her. There was no end to what he would do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He speaks. “V?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But before she knows it, her lips are crashing against his and her body begs to be even closer. All she feels is love. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She falls onto the bed and watches Jughead’s body move as he removes his kutte, then his shirt. Her heart races for all of him to be on all of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, they move as one. She calls his name as he breathes her in and nothing but the sound of their skin can be heard over the same music that plays in the background that the dead body had put on when he was still living. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead whispers in her ear how much he loves her. They crash together and her eyes meet his, red comes to view in the background as she realises she can’t live without him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was never in my vision to have the club become what it was. What had started with good intentions was eventually built on the blood of others. Each and every ruthless stone added to the pile was just another piece of the footpath towards the next bloodbath and by the time I realised what my world had become, I was just wading in a river that I couldn't escape. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood was the water that fuelled us. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. i don't want you to look into the mirror and the man that's staring back at you is me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To the editor who is always there to talk me off the edge.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>I don't want you to look into the mirror and the man that's staring back at you is me</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>The deeper I got, it showed in the way of losing my humanity. I lost the ability to tap into the normality of being human. If anyone showed their human flaws to me, I had to make them pay. By money or blood, there was no getting away from me without paying the price. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would look into the mirror and I didn't see myself. I saw a person whose relationships all came with a cost. My brothers weren’t my brothers, their flaws made them pay. I took all I could get from them and all of those who wronged me. Regardless of how hard they’d beg.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When you look into the mirror, son, I don't want you to see the man that I saw. I don’t want you to lose the compassion you hold for people, including your own flesh and blood. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want you to look into the mirror and the man who's staring back at you is me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead’s hands are still covered in dirt. He dug a shallow grave just on the border of Greendale, he spat on it for good measure and rode all the way home to Veronica. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t like the shakiness in her. He could feel the fear radiating off her but still, she was calm. He was always interested in the reaction of a person when they see death for the first time. Not the calm, inevitable kind of death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kind where you have the control, you decide the fate of a person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some people panic, it makes them sick to their stomachs and they never quite recover. Others revel in the power, always wanting to push it to the next level as far as they can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had held Veronica’s hair back from her face three times as she vomited into the toilet. A guilt pulses through him but he knows, in his heart of hearts this was the only way. One more fucked up insult towards Veronica that would have come from that agent’s mouth was going to result in nothing less than bloodshed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His spirit should count himself lucky for Jughead showing mercy in only letting go of three of his bullets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead lies in the soft sheets of Veronica’s bed. She’s curled up next to him, hair splayed across her white sheets and her head resting on his shoulder. He feels peace. The calm. A feeling he hadn’t felt in so long. The bodies of all the women he’d spent nights with, Serpentines - the women who want to be shacked up with a Serpent, but aren’t ballsy enough to do the Serpent dance - all come to mind. All empty feelings that left him sick to his stomach. All women, just there at the right place, the right time. Nothing that ever left him feeling the way he does now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses her gently on the forehead. Every time he makes a move, he thinks about how he had done the exact same things years ago. Soft touches on her skin, everlasting kisses. He loves the feeling of reminiscing on the past. He loves the feeling of loving her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He notices the blood still on the carpet that she had tried scrub out earlier. Two days had passed and he knows he’s a dead man when he gets back to the club, but he couldn’t leave Veronica here alone. Slowly, she stirs next to him. “You’re still here,” she mumbles, still half asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead still strokes her hair, wondering when she’ll realise that he never wants to leave her. “Of course,” he answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves into his side, getting as close as possible. “What is this?” she asks. “You and I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead inhales deeply. It’s everything and anything, he thinks. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s whatever you want it to be. You know how I feel about you,” he tells her. “I love you so much.” I can barely breathe, he thinks to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica nods, placing a kiss on the corner of his lips. “I love you so much too…” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Gladys has no patience when her son drops off the grid like this. She had half expected to see him three whores deep in the back room of The Maple Club but Penelope had said he wasn’t there and Penelope was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a liar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning up to Archie’s house, she was met with the icy reception of Betty, telling her straight that if Jughead had turned up there, he would have been shown right out. Gladys let her know that if she wanted to, she was more than welcome to come over to the club’s family dinner at her’s and Edgar’s. Betty didn’t take the offer, but Gladys didn’t blame her. Being an old lady of the club came with a lot of pain, usually it calms down and all their lives settle back into the mundane swing of things, but Miss Andrews never caught a break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys allows one woman the courtesy of her sympathy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was down to the last stop, pulling up at the Pembrooke, Gladys has Sweet Pea at her side, riding alongside her for back up. Barging up to the Penthouse Suite, Sweet Pea speaks behind her. “You know which one’s hers?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys points at the door, smack bang in the middle of the floor. “The fanciest one up here,” she tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Banging on the door, it’s only a few seconds before she hears a gun click and the doors unlock. “It’s your mother!” she snaps, banging on the door again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her son swings the door open, looking at his mother and his brother next to him, the look of panic is spread across his face. “Is everything okay? Veronica’s not here…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys shoves his shoulder, partly for putting her through the stress of not knowing where he was, partly for being here of all places. “Where the hell were you?” she hisses. “The club needs you and you’re out here chasing the doctor!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead’s eyes change before her. Just like his father’s, she thinks. He gives off the same energy, the same anger. “She’s not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘doctor’</span>
  </em>
  <span> mom,” he seethes. “She’s Veronica and she needed me…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For two fucking nights!” she snaps back. Sweet Pea cringes, taking a step back to hide a little down the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead keeps his frame in the door, not letting her even take a glimpse inside. “I’m not having this conversation with you,” he warns her. “I’ll be back at the clubhouse when I’m done doing what I gotta do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys shakes, pursing her lips, she shoots a look at Sweet Pea but he just shakes his head. “Not getting involved,” he tells her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys takes another look at her son, letting her disappointment show. “When you get some, baby, you better have a better excuse than getting in the doctor’s panties for your crew.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her son just sniggers with the same arrogance of his father. “It’s none of your concern.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spins on her heels, dragging Sweet Pea by the scruff of his neck. Gladys knows there’s only so much a mother can do before their baby boys have to stand up for themselves as </span>
  <em>
    <span>men</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It had been a long time since Veronica had stepped foot in the Whyte Wyrm. It was like it never aged, everything seemed to be in the same place as they were ten years - or even longer - she can’t remember the first time she went there or how old she was. All she remembers was the young boy who looked up to the men in leather like they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he’s the God with the boys looking up at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following closely behind Jughead, she keeps her equipment bag close to her. “Thanks for doing this, Veronica,” he tells her. “Sweet Pea’s been complaining of his ass for weeks now…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weeks!” she says in shock, glaring at him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives her a weakened look. She knows why. He doesn’t want to drag her into club business. And she doubts Sweet Pea has the insurance to cover a hospital visit. “He’s just in here... “ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the garage door, Veronica steps in. Men she had seen popping in and out of Riverdale General to visit Nathanial over the last few months are scattered all around Sweet Pea who’s already lying on his stomach. She feels the stares of everyone around her, watching her move through the garage. Walking up slowly to her with a swagger in his step is their President, Edgar opens his arms to her and embraces her with a smile. “Heya Doc,” he says deeply. “Thanks for coming out here on short notice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica laughs awkwardly, unsure of where to look or at whom. “Not as short as I would have preferred, Jughead let me know the injury was sustained a little while back so I’m hoping there’s not too much damage to his -” she’s cut off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His ass cheek?” Reggie cackles from a corner. “His ass cheek may have sustained some damage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damaged goods, baby,” Souphead laughs alongside him. “That’s rotten beef right there!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet Pea groans from the table he’s lying on, “Fuck off the both of you!” He gives Veronica a weak smile when she stands at his side, looking from his butt to his face. “Don’t get too used to this, Doc,” he teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica shakes her head. “Sweet Pea,” she begins. “This is really, really infected. I’ll need to wash it out and even do some stitches. You’ll need antibiotics.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t have the money to get that shit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slides gloves on, snapping the latex against her skin, thinking quickly, she comes up with a solution. “I can get some but it’ll only be enough for a week tops…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fred Andrews takes a step forward from where he was leaning on his bike, pushing his nasal cannula against his nose, he gives Veronica a grin. “I’ll help the kid out, Doc,” he replies. “I’ve got a shady dealer just north of Greendale, we’ll take the ride up and see what she can get us…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though the sentiment was sweet, the professional side of her rears its head, she wonders just how shady these drugs and medications are, but as she’s wiping purulent from a gang member’s wound from a dog bite, she realises there’s not much any of them can do. “That would be good, Fred,” she nods. “He’s going to need something for this kind of breakdown…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead comes up behind her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, he leans into her ear. “Thanks for doing this, Princess,” he says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushes her cheek against his lip as he kisses her softly. A loud; “Ooooh, Jug’s in love,” sing songs through the cold garage from Reggie and various claps can be heard around the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels all eyes on her, just like in the operating theatre, when she begins her stitches. It’s not until a swinging light that’s being held by Souphead almost hits her that she realises the gravity of what’s going on in here. This was definitely not the operating theatre. Everyone surrounding her wears Serpent kuttes, some still wear the cuts and bruises of their latest business deals and a barely washed blood stain is still on the floor where Reggie stands with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that will do it,” she says, snipping the thread that’s holding Sweet Pea together. He takes a sigh of relief and Souphead inspects her handy work before flicking it, earning a shriek from Sweet Pea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck did you do that for?!” Sweet Pea yells, trying to reach for Souphead while he still lays on the table but Souphead simply moves out of reach, laughing in his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead gives her another kiss but she holds up her hands, waving her fingers in the air. “Where can I deal with these?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He points behind him. “Just go in there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She washes her hands in the basin in the back room, splashing water on her face, she tries to hide the stray tear that escapes her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men she’s with are all just as bad, as dirty and as fearsome as the man who killed another living human in her house. And they’re breaking bread out there without a care in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she was a part of that world.  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Archie Andrews feels like he has a permanent weight on his shoulders. It nails him to the ground, it keeps his head pounding with something he rarely feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paces the veranda of his home. His home holds all the good memories of his childhood all mixed up with the bad ones of his adulthood. Life was simple when he and Jughead were kids. They were simple when he and Betty fell in love on this very doorstep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the life that was built for him destroyed that, just as he was destroying everything around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear the excited screams of his children, he can hear Betty telling them to calm down but with love and excitement in her own voice. He wonders if this was what it was like when he was locked up for two years. If maybe they were better off without him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie knows his wife doesn’t want him to live this life. But loyalty was everything. Just as his own father was FP Jones’s best friend and right hand man, he knows he is all that and more to Jughead. Jughead is his brother, and Archie was nothing if not loyal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter how much his heart tells him to leave, for the sake of his wife, for the sake of his children, his veins are too deep rooted in the Southside. There cannot be one without the other, he doesn’t have a family if he doesn’t live for Southside. Southside gives him the stability to provide for his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie sucks up the courage to face his family, to be the strength they need. Going inside, he doesn’t take his kutte off at the front door. Instead, he makes his way to the kitchen, flicking the switch of the kettle to turn it on. The money weighs just as heavy in his pocket, ten grand for a gun delivery he made to the Ghoulies with Soup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wife stands at the sink, scrubbing furiously. “Where have you been?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he doesn’t have to answer. She knows exactly where he’s been and what he’s been doing and it breaks his heart. “I’ve got something for you,” he tells her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Betty spins on the spot, tears brim in her big, blue eyes. It doesn’t matter how long he’s known her, when tears begin to spill, she looks exactly like the little girl that lived next door to him his entire life. Like the girl with the broken heart when they were fifteen. He hates it. “You can’t keep doing this to us, Archie,” she begs. “You’re going to get caught again and for what?! For you to be locked away, for our kids to not have a father!” she takes a breath, closing her eyes, she shakes her head. “If you keep doing this, we’re going to have to leave…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie wishes he feels more, but in his heart of hearts, he wonders if that’s the best thing to do. For his kids. Let them leave, get away from people like him. “If you hated it so much, why didn’t you leave the first time I got locked away?” he asks, trying to keep the fear from his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because our kids were babies!” she hisses, tears spilling down her cheeks. “But now they need a father, and they can’t have one if you keep getting into trouble, Archie!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With every word she speaks, his heart hurts. There isn’t anything on this earth that Archie loves more than his kids. But this was his life and he doesn’t know how to do both. Not when everything he does is </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. “I can’t keep working twelve hours in construction for shit pay, Betty. This is the only way I know how to keep things moving. My loyalty to the club keeps me bound… If you don’t like it, then keep packing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches the tears stream down his wife’s face. They fall in time with his. He hates feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet, but maybe it’s worth it to keep his family safe.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Toni looks great, Veronica thinks. She looks healthier, she’s put on a bit of weight and for the first time in a long time, she sees an honest smile from her. Pulling the woman in her arms, Veronica holds her tightly, she can feel Toni’s smile against her shoulder and she feels Toni hold her tighter as well. “You look great!” Veronica congratulates. “You really do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni pulls away, looking over Veronica’s shoulder, her face turns into relief. “Wow!” she exclaims. “Look at him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both women turn to look at Nathanial, kicking and wiggling in his little bed. Just as his mother has returned healthy and thriving, he was too. Veronica watches the tears of happiness fall from her eyes, she wipes them with the back of her hand while she watches her son. Veronica feels for Toni. Despite everything she’s been through, despite what she did, Veronica knows the blame can’t be put solely on Toni. She watches as Toni puts her hands to the glass, she can feel the longing coming off her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows that Jughead won’t be happy if he finds out that she let Toni in the room, but that was something she was willing to pay for. Seeing the heartache in a mother standing before her son, unable to hold him was painful. Before thinking it through completely, she turns to Toni. “Do you want to hold him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni’s mouth drops and the surprise of the offer is apparent. Veronica almost laughs at the excitement. “Can I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Veronica says, not even convincing herself. “Just don’t tell Jug, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni nods excitedly. “I promise.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jughead rolls through Riverdale General with his head held high, he feels the eyes of everyone in the hospital burning him, but his son was coming home soon and there was nothing that was going to get him down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he gets to the Paediatric ward, he swings open the doors and before him stands Veronica and Toni. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart stops for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t control the panic in him that was quickly replaced with relief. Veronica smiles at him briefly before exiting the viewing room, giving him a nod to tell him that she’ll give them some privacy. The nerves kick back in when she leaves, part of him begs for her to stay but the worried expression on Toni’s face brings him back to what’s right in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes Toni into his arms, burying his face in her hair, he tries to tell her that he’s there for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead feels her sobs and the sorrow he tried to bury deep inside of him comes back. He loves Toni, she was his best friend but it was never going to work. The sorrow he carries around for her is speckled with the love he still has. “I’m so sorry, Jug,” she cries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps holding her tighter. “I don’t want you doing anything stupid over this shit, Toni,” he mumurs. “We need to keep you on the straight and narrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni sniffs, moving away, she wipes her tears with the hem of her t-shirt. “Everything is my fault,” she cries. “I didn’t even try…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead shakes his head, grabbing her face, he wipes her tears with his thumbs. “We should have never got back together after you got out of rehab the second time. We were never good for each other…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see the understanding in her eyes. She knows he’s right. They were never made for each other, always too much. Too much pain, too much fire. “I know…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t ready to try and settle down, I definitely wasn’t ready for a fucking kid. I hated that it happened and so I left you all alone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we both just wanted something that felt normal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jughead sighs. “I think so too. Nathanial born with his stomach messed up, that’s all me, Toni. Don’t you wear the pain of that.” Toni breaks down a little more and Jughead continues to hold her. “Hey,” he says, trying to smile. “Do you want to hold your son for the first time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni sniffs again, cracking a smile. “I really do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta say, T, he’s fucking perfect.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead leads the way, happy to see a smile from her but she grabs his hand, pulling him back, she frowns. “I can’t keep secrets anymore, Jug. But Veronica already let me hold him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, Jughead carries on behind the glass. “She’s too damn sweet for her own good,” he says. “Want to hold him again, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead pulls his baby out of the crib, kissing his soft skin, he holds him tighter for a second before handing him to Toni. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni’s body is stiff, her arms are unsure of what to do but her face is softened, tearful and loving. Jughead enjoys the look on her, happy to see his messed up, little family together for the first time. She settles down on the chair and he follows, sitting down next to her. “He’s so amazing,” Toni whispers, placing a tender kiss on his cheek. “I can’t believe he’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a fighter,” Jughead shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like his dad,” Toni replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead enjoys the peace and quiet for once, enjoying being with his friend again, spending time with his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up, out the window, he sees Veronica looking in on them. He can’t pinpoint the look on her face, but it’s not as sweet as it usually is. She wears a sadness. But he’s distracted as he watches his mother approaching the window, just behind Veronica. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he sees on her is </span>
  <em>
    <span>pride</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jughead watches Edgar puff on his cigar, not even meeting his eyes. “You know why you’re here, don’t you son?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops himself from rolling his eyes. Edgar was always menacing, always trying to draw out the problem. “Say what you got to say, Ed,” Jughead retorts. “Stop fucking around.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar looks from Jughead to Sweet Pea. As much as Jughead loves his brother, Sweet Pea was Edgar’s little weapon. Always willing to do Edgar’s orders, no matter the price or the amount of blood spilt. “Archie’s a loose unit, son, and we’re going to do something about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead sees red, flames creeping up his back. Slamming his hand on the table, he shouts. “NO YOU WILL NOT!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, he watches Edgar’s face shift. “Archie hasn’t been straight since he got out of prison eight months ago!” he argues. “Betty’s giving him heat and now it’s affecting the club. We have ATF riding our dicks right now and you know who’s going to bust first if Grundy keeps on us? Archie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead knows his brother. Though his heart rules before his head, Archie is loyal to the bone. Archie would tell him before letting anything happen. “Archie won’t give into the ATF and I know it. If you’re going to do anything, you run it past me first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I AM THE PRESIDENT HERE, NOT YOU AND </span>
  <em>
    <span>NOT</span>
  </em>
  <span> FP!” his stepfather shouts, his face turning red. “SO STOP ACTING LIKE HIM!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead loves the rise out of Edgar, he knows he’s pissing him off. “I’m sure everyone would be pleased to hear a fucking conspiracy about Southside turning on one of our own brothers if anything happens, Edgar,” he snaps thickly. “Archie is one of our own and if you have a problem with that, then take it to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> table for a vote!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet Pea sits in silence, cracking his fingers against his palm as he listens to the unravelling of his President and Vice President. Edgar speaks. “If Archie makes a deal, you best believe that will be on your head and said head will be rolling…” Before Jughead can fight back, his mom walks through the door. “Not now, Glad,” Edgar warns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his mother walks in anyway, making her way to her husband, she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Waldo called. He needs you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar’s face falls, sighing loudly, he rolls his eyes. “For fucks sakes,” he complains. “It’s one thing after a fucking other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead storms out of the clubroom, heading straight to the bar as he lights a cigarette but before the clubroom door shuts behind him, he hears Edgar’s order. “We do what we gotta do, Sweets, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Jughead can exhale his second drag, his mom is behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You okay, baby?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning around, he watches her. His mother would do anything for him, but he knows she’s torn between her son and her husband. “I’m fine, Ma.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys nods, taking his face in her hands, she puts a kiss on his cheek. “You know everything that happens here is for you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, Jughead doesn’t believe that at all. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Edgar Evernever had tried his hardest to keep Waldo Jnr in line. He had made a promise to his father that he would, but just as Waldo Snr had broken his promises, Edgar knows he’s not too good at keeping his promises either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Banging on the door of Waldo’s apartment, he can hear the cries of Waldo on the other side but no movement to open the door. Edgar groans before kicking the door, letting himself in as it cracks the frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking through the house, Edgar notices all the photos Waldo has up on the walls of his father. The kid sure loved his dad, if only he knew what a pathetic excuse of a man he was. He knows Waldo was too young when Waldo Snr passed to remember, but Edgar was here to remind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the floor of the bathroom, Waldo is curled up in a ball, his arm freshly shot up and his face wet with tears. “I need you,” he blubbers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar can barely offer a sympathetic glance. Reaching down, he hauls the man up to his feet. “Get yourself together, man!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows Waldo is in another one of his spirals that again, he has to clean up. It was tiring to say the least and the guilt of keeping someone alive that was too much of a liability was getting to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waldo had to go, just like his father did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t my dad want me?” he sniffs against Edgar, but he lets Waldo drop to the ground, the frustration building in him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got a confession to make,” Edgar starts, fingers moving to his gun on his hip. “Your dad didn’t leave you, buddy. He was killed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He enjoys watching the confusion spread over Waldo’s face. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Edgar continues. “He was killed because your father was a rat and couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He heard too many things when he worked in the garage, knew too much information and he liked to spread it. So he was killed…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waldo’s sobs echo through the house, his solemn cries. “Why?” he cries, face screwed up in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He worked on FP’s bike, Waldo. He knew too much about that fucking bike.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bike that FP died on?” Waldo asks, shaking his head. “This doesn’t make any sense!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before Waldo could get more answers, Edgar draws his gun, screwing on the silencer, he moves fast, aiming it at Waldo’s temple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quick, sharp and quiet. Just as Edgar likes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tucking the gun back into his pants, he looks at Waldo. “I didn’t want to kill him, buddy,” he tells the silent body. “And I guess that’s why I had to look after you. But your father knew too much about FP and that fucking bike for me to feel comfortable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar leaves the house, relief washing over him. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Veronica walks through the Pembrooke, enjoying the comfortable quiet that runs through the walls. She can smell tobacco making its way through the windows that settles her. For once, she feels at ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her body still aches from Jughead’s touch all over her, the smell of his skin on hers. She makes her way to the balcony, looking through the open doors, she sees nothing but the soft light of the tip of his cigarette, the glow of his giant snake tattoo that covers his entire back, his form bent over, reading something that sits in his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is what she prays for. The simplicity of a normal love. The nights spent together, not in fear but in </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The normality of Jughead, in her space with no kutte on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he continues to read and she continues to watch, she realises he can’t ever get rid of that kutte. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because even when he doesn’t wear it, with the kutte off, that snake is forever part of him. Etched into his skin. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I got to a point where I wasn’t sure what I was looking at when I stared at my own club. I trusted none. I hated it all. Nothing was ever straight forward, there were secrets and lies behind everything. Everything was a lie and we forgot our own truths. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>People who were supposed to keep us safe were the ones who had knives to our throats.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Family meant nothing and neither did my club. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I longed for an escape. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<span>...</span><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. leaving you to find your way all on your own</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The editor, I thank you always</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>leaving you to find your way all on your own</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>I couldn’t keep up with the constant intertwining of spider webs. Webs of lies and deception, cruelty and pain. Family and foe. Trying to find myself amongst it all, I always thought of myself as the spider who spun all the webs, but I was merely the fly awaiting the end. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With too many things on my mind, too much weight on my shoulders I sought out an escape. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what is the escape? There’s always only one permanent end that came to mind. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But that would have made me a bad father, leaving you to find your way all on your own. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Baxter was the town south of Riverdale. Jughead didn’t want to travel so far from home when Nathanial was so close to being released. Knowing that Veronica was with his son gave him comfort, probably more so than himself being there and he knows, deep down, that if he had let his stepfather make the trip to Baxter to talk to the SW crew, Edgar would have walked out of there having probably started a war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride was peaceful. The cool air whipped his face as he rode out of town, heading towards Baxter. The Stonewall Cartel was one of the Serpents’ more professional dealings. Bret Weston-Wallis kept things neat and tidy, rarely getting his hands dirty. The SW crew have money and that’s what they were heading out to get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead pulls up first to the Stonewall Cartel headquarters with his brothers closely behind him. Souphead pulls up first then Archie. Lighting a cigarette, both Souphead and Archie hop off their bikes, pulling off their helmets. “Man, I wish we had a clubhouse like this!” Souphead says, examining the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just laughs, shaking his head, he replies; “That’s why we’re here. Hopefully they’ll be in for the gun trade and we can get loaded…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie rolls his eyes. “As if everyone’s going to put their cut of the cash in for revamping the clubhouse…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We deserve a five star establishment, sir,” Souphead laughs, ripping Jughead’s cigarette from his fingers and taking a drag himself. “Spa pools and shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead snatches his cigarette back, glaring at Souphead. “When we go in there, don’t say anything stupid, okay?” he hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Souphead pretends to zip his lips, throwing away the key. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, mommy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead turns to head into the building, feeling Archie’s hand on his shoulder. “Keep your cool, bro,” he warns. “I know you and Bret don’t see eye to eye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Understatement of the year, Jughead thinks. But he nods. “I’ll be right with you beside me, brother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking into the darkened building, he can feel the eyes of the cartel all over him. He’s met with Donna Sweett who walks towards them, her smile menacing and trouble. “Oh,” she says, looking surprised. “The Prince himself came out to play…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead cracks a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “How you doing, Donna?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better for seeing you,” running her eyes over the other two at his sides, her smile grows. “I’m lucky today, you brought your best boys.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only the best for you, darlin’” Jughead winks, dragging Souphead by the neck and Archie hurries at his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donna leads them deeper into the building. Jughead feels under protected when he realises he only brought one pistol inside with him, panic only dulling slightly when he remembers Archie should have one on him too and Souphead should have at least a couple of blades on him. She stops at a door that she opens slowly, inside sitting at a table is Bret and his right hand, Jonathan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of the SW’s stand, holding out their hands, they greet Jughead, Archie and Souphead enthusiastically. “Boys,” says Bret. Jughead takes Bret’s hand first then Jonathan’s with his brothers doing the same after him. “And what do we owe the pleasure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make this quick.” Jughead takes a seat with both Archie and Souphead on his sides. “You need guns for your army,” he announces. “And I’ve just signed a deal with the BFT.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bret adjusts his tie, running his hands over the front of his suit. “So the rumours are true, huh? You’re the customer of the Blossom Family Trust?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead shrugs, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “We’ve been in with BFT for a while now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To what extent?” Bret asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead gives both his boys a look and receives a nod from Archie for him to continue. They both know that it’s in their best interests to tell Bret the truth of their relationship with the Blossom Family Trust in order to gain Bret’s trust or they could lose their own customers in the Stonewall Cartel. Jughead answers. “We’ve been in with Jason, their frontman for a while, buying pistols and rifles, but now we’re branching out to the head of the table, Claudius, he’s giving us AK’s and will be handing over their drug trade to the Ghoulies. Clifford works for us inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Bret breathes, visibly impressed. “You even have a Blossom alongside you in Shankshaw?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cliff was a member of the Serpents back in the day with my dad. Before his family established the trust. He makes connections for us in Shankshaw, he’s loyal to the bone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does this mean for Stonewall?” Bret asks. “Why do you want our business? Your stepfather doesn’t make people comfortable when he gets into bed with them, if you understand what I’m saying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Souphead giggles beside him, whispering; “Then lube up…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead leans back in his chair. “I know Edgar can make relationships hard when he’s so… tough… but we have guns we can sell to you for your cartel army at a discounted price and in exchange, we get a reliable customer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds to me like you boys need us more than we need you,” Bret says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “That could be true, but where else, this close to home, would you find a reliable gun source?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead can tell he has Bret there. The closest to them would be New York and distance aside, guns in New York are not easy to come by when their gangs and clubs are so tight knit. Bret turns to Jonathan, whispering in his ear before looking back at the three on the other side of the table. “To test Edgar’s and the Serpents loyalty to the cause, we need to ask you guys a favour before we agree on a deal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking to both his sides, he can see Souphead is excited and Archie looks weary but he nods anyway. “Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adam Chisholm, a member of the Gargoyles, took down one of my men and we need to wipe him out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead holds back a groan. Doing someone else’s dirty work was not going to go down well with Edgar, but Jughead knows it has to be done for the sake of the deal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Souphead holds up his hands. “Hold up, you want us to kill someone who killed one of your boys?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bret just grins. “My army is under the spotlight at the moment, but Adam needs to go. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who’s scared of taking someone out…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Souphead laughs. “I’m not scared. I’m pissed because your lazy arses won’t do it yourself -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soup!” Archie hisses across the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll run it past Edgar and see what we can do. If we can do it, we’ll have an agreement, right?” Jughead asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bret stands, leaning over the table, he holds out his hand for Jughead to shake. “You wipe out Adam Chisholm and you have our business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead shakes Bret’s hand before turning around and heading out of the door. Getting back to the entrance, Donna calls out. “You’re welcome to come back here anytime you want, boys,” before shutting the door behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three of the men straddle their bikes, putting on their helmets. “She’s one crazy bitch,” Archie whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Souphead laughs. “Can kill more men than I can, that’s for sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead nods. “That’s why she’s Bret’s number one sniper. He loves her, that’s why he won’t send her out to do this fucking shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all sit in silence for a moment before Souphead speaks. “You know Edgar won’t let us do this, he won’t want us getting dirty with SW’s mess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Jughead agrees. “That’s why we’re going to do it ourselves now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now?” Archie repeats. “Edgar will kill you, Jug.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead starts his bike, revving it up. He knows Edgar won’t like it if he finds out, but unlike his stepfather, Jughead knows what’s best for his club. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It had only taken one call to Moose to find out where Adam lived and he also managed to confirm he was at the location before letting Jughead, Archie and Souphead roll silently into the motel carpark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gathering behind a bush, Jughead and his brothers come up with a plan. “I’ll take him out,” Souphead offers, a twitch in his eye. He was excited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As easy as it would be for him to take Adam out, Jughead knows Souphead is reckless. Likely to make a mess or make too much noise as to get someone’s attention. Before Jughead can say he’ll do it himself, Archie pipes up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Jughead and Souphead pause for a moment, trying to find something, anything in Archie that would incline him to change his mind. Jughead fears for his brother, since his release from jail and his most recent attempt at a normal life and normal work, he hadn’t been on his game. But Archie’s eagerness is written all over his face and Jughead knows that normally, Archie is the one he can rely on most. “Are you sure, Arch?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says, pulling out his gun and loading it. “I’m ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before anything else can be said, Archie is slowly coming out from behind the bushes, quietly and stealthily, he makes his way to the motel room where Adam is supposed to be. Keeping his back to the wall and his gun close to his chest, he reaches over, knocking on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead can’t help but clench his jaw as he watches Archie knock on the door. The adrenaline pumps through him as they all wait for the door to open. Before he can take the next breath, the door opens slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam Chisholm stands in the doorway with his Gargoyle kutte on, looking side to side, he doesn’t see Archie who still stands tucked behind the bricking that hides the piping for the building but Jughead finally sees him step out, gun held in front of him aimed at Adam’s heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam pauses, his mouth drops and his hands are in the air but Archie still doesn’t pull the trigger. “Fuck!” Jughead hisses, hands moving quickly around his body to find his pistol to run up and make the shot himself, but before his hands make it, Souphead has his hands on Jughead’s hips, ripping the pistol from his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Souphead leaps over the bush just as Jughead yells. “Don’t!” but it’s too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching the scene unravel in front of him, he sees Archie, hands on his shaky gun, frozen in front of Adam who still hasn’t moved. But before anything else can go wrong, Souphead is in front of Adam, in close range with his silencer to Adam’s temple. There’s a quiet pop before Adam drops and both Souphead and Archie are sprinting towards the bush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three move from the bush, running down the driveway to where their bikes are parked tidily at the front of the motel. “What the FUCK was that, Archie?!” Jughead spits, anger rolling off him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie doesn’t reply, he just kicks his bike into gear and rides away. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After the events of the morning, Jughead couldn’t go back to the clubhouse. He had too much on his mind and he didn’t know what to say to Archie or to Edgar so he thought it would be best to avoid it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling through Riverdale, he lets himself fall calm. He loved his home, he was born and raised here, just as his son would be. He rides past Pop’s, ignoring the hunger in his stomach and continues on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he rides past the police station, he can hear screams even over the rumble of his bike. Looking to the side, he sees the new agent, Agent Grundy, walking behind officers who had a kicking, screaming woman in their arms. Looking closer, he recognises the red hair first. Cheryl Blossom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead frowns, wondering why Cheryl is in custody and just how much trouble she was going to give the agent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hopes Cheryl gives her hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues rolling down the streets, trying to forget Archie’s problems and hoping that they can figure them out together. Pulling up at Riverdale General, he parks his bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” comes from behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning around, he’s met with the small smile of Toni. Finally giving him a reason to smile. “Hey!” He says happily, leaning in to give her a quick hug. “You here to see Nathanial too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she says quietly, then she frowns. “You’re packing even when you’re at the hospital?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead looks down to his waist, seeing the outline of his pistol still on him. “Not intentionally…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Jug,” she says with a huff, frustration evident. “Your son is in there, he almost didn’t survive yet you still live this,” she throws her hands in the air. “Life!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what to think. Part of him knows that she of all people shouldn’t be giving him life advice, but the other part knows she’s right. There was something so dark and fucked up about him carrying around this entire world on his body and mind when something so precious is behind the doors of the hospital waiting for him. “You have no right to say that to me,” he hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to rehab, I’ve done my time! I’m trying to change things for the better, I’m moving, Jughead, because I know I can't do this and I’m doing the right thing by our son!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air feels thick around them. “You’re moving?” he mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” she replies. “Going into a home to try and get myself sorted. You need to do something like that too. Sort your shit out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead feels like the air is knocked out of him. Toni couldn’t move. She was bound here, just like the rest of them. She couldn’t abandon their son, but selfishly, Jughead knows he thinks that because he’s scared of being a father. He feels his head pounding, tears prickling. All he can think about that baby inside who was going to be stuck with him. “Toni…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “I can’t do this, Jughead,” she mumbles before turning away from the hospital, walking down the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead groans, kicking the wheel of his bike, he yells loudly, gripping onto his hair. “Jughead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t turn again. Knowing the voice coming from behind him, he feels both relief and torment. Before he knows it, arms wrap around his waist that ground him, but her fingers linger on the piece of metal strapped to him. But she doesn’t cower, he feels her face pressed against his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Veronica lets go and Jughead turns, leaning on his bike, he manages a smile just for her. “Hey,” she whispers. “Is everything okay? I was just at the reception and I saw your bike from inside…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart breaks a little. There was a woman in his arms who didn’t ask for any of this, but yet here she was spending every single minute of her time ensuring that his son was alive and here was his son’s parents, scared of what they might do to their own child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things might not have been smooth sailing or even straight forward between him and Veronica but he knows that without her right now, his heart can’t even function. She keeps him on this earth and that’s all he has. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can tell that she can feel his pain, it’s in the way she brushes her fingers through his hair and holds him close against her heart, as if she was part of it. He feels like he is her when they’re this close. “I want to see my son,” he says through silent tears. “I want to be with you. I want too much, I ask for too much. I’m selfish, but I need you both…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica frowns again, but she takes his face in her hands, brushing her lips against his, she whispers; “I’m here when you need me. And your son is yours, nothing will change that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time all day, something feels clear to him. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Edgar’s cigar smoke mingles with Tom’s as they sit at the club table with the Chief. They laugh, just like the old friends they are and Joaquin leans in closer, starting conversation. “What the fuck does that ATF bitch want?” he seethes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom coughs before speaking. “She’s praying on the weak and vulnerable, kid,” he tells Joaquin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joaquin leans back, anger showing on his face. “And she’s starting with affiliates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Affiliates,” Tom agrees. “Probably members that have something to lose, family and shit,” he continues. “She had Cheryl Blossom in the station today, well, you know how well Miss Blossom takes to authority.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a laughter that rings around the table. This time, Fangs speaks. “What does that mean for us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Edgar snaps. “We don’t have weak, vulnerable members, we don’t have anything to lose and we sure as hell won’t go down for this!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead’s eyes move to Archie. His shoulders slumped, worry radiating off him. Jughead can tell that even Fred senses something wrong. Fred watches his son like a hawk. “Just because we have nothing to lose, doesn’t mean she’s not going to start on us. What the fuck does she want? Who is she after?” Jughead asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar shoots a glare at Jughead but Tom answers. “She’s after the BFT. Gun trade.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blossom Family Trust,” Edgar groans. “Great.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom shrugs. “The problem being that you guys are the direct link to BFT. Grundy took Cheryl in because she raided The Maple Club to try and get Cheryl and Penelope to rat on BFT.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The table laughs again. “Penelope and Cheryl aren’t going to rat on their own family,” says Fangs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Grundy thinks they might if they’re faced with jail time themselves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Edgar spits. “Grundy sure plays dirty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom agrees, standing up from the table, he stubs his cigar out in the ashtray. “As much as I’d love to hang around, boys, I better be going.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone waves goodbye until it’s just the crew in the room. “You better make a visit to The Maple Club in the next few days, son,” he tells Jughead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead nods, barely able to comprehend what’s happening. It’s like everything is crumbling around him and he’s stuck underneath the rubble. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Veronica lies in Jughead’s arms, letting the comfort of his bed relax her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His home is modest, she can tell all the little bits and pieces of his home that were influenced by Gladys. As if she tried to make it more homely to hide all the bad parts of her son. Veronica had spent time in the room that would eventually be Nathanial’s, panicked by the fact that Nick had been in there at some point. In the room of the baby she cares for and has grown to love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After seeing his room, touching the things that he’d soon be able to play with, the thought made her feel sick. She had never been so pleased with the fact that he was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead lies beside her, she traces the scars on his skin and the curve of his lips. She loves that in this moment, there’s only love. No fear, nothing to tear him away from him. No club that demands things of him. There’s only her and him in the house that he lives in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stirs beside her, looking up, he looks concerned. “Are you heading to work?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she replies. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re awake. I thought you might be leaving…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica can hear the worry in his voice. She had done this, she made him carry the worry around. She left him before and she knows he wonders if she’ll do it again. “No,” she reassures him. “I’m here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles softly at her, still half asleep and dreamy. “It’s like one day you were here, the next you were gone. Now you’re here again and it’s like you’ve never left…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the same way too. Everything feels so easy, like the last ten years never happened. Like looking after Nathanial is the easiest thing in the world and being in Jughead’s arms is so natural. She looks at the man next to her and it’s just as easy to forget everything he’s ever done. So easy to see him for the way he is when he’s in her arms. A man who loves fiercely and is overflowing with passion. “I never want to leave again,” she tells him. “I never want to leave you again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trails kisses over her body and it feels like every part of him is every single part of her. Veronica realises something when he moves on top of her, whispering just how much he loves her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were never apart. Destiny made sure of that. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Even with Veronica lying in his room, in his home. The house that his son will come home to. The very house that is slowly starting to feel like it may have a family in its walls, where a happiness might grow, he feels like it’s suffocating him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sheer weight of his life drowns him, water fills his lungs, breath escapes him. He gasps for air as he sits in his lounge, watching the flames in the fireplace lick at the bricks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest caves, thoughts lingering on guns, death, blood. Flesh. His own flesh and blood lies in the cold, clinical room of the hospital, so far away from him. He wants his son. He wants a world that doesn’t feel like it’s killing him slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead holds his father’s words in his hands. The manuscript tells him nothing. All he feels is that he doesn’t know his father at all. That his father wasn’t here to give his writing any gravity. Jughead doesn’t get anything from the words other than the fact that his dad was scared and fearful, but weren’t they all? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throwing the manuscript in the fire, he watches the flames take it. The burning doesn’t stop but Jughead pauses, scrambling to his knees, he reaches in, pulling his father’s words out of the fire. Regretting his last move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking down at the burnt edges, his body is overcome with relief when he realises his father’s words were salvageable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might not know his father, maybe he was a coward. But this was the only way to get to know him better and maybe, somewhere in his words, was some footsteps he might be able to follow.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Agent Grundy stands in the cold interview room of Shankshaw. Lips framed with pink gloss, her ATF jacket hangs from her frame but she was pleased with herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She managed to get time with Clifford Blossom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits at the table as she paces the room. She likes to get a little fear shaken into her prisoners. She’s the one with the jacket, not them. She has total control and that’s how she likes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at the prisoner, she speaks with a snigger. “Your daughter put up quite the fight, Mister Blossom,” she starts. “And your wife was nowhere to be seen. Quite a bit of coke she had stashed at her little whore house. But you’ll be pleased to hear I stuck to my word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clifford just grins, not speaking. Grundy leans forward on the table. “We interviewed your daughter but I stuck to my deal, Clifford,” she hisses. “Immunity for your wife and daughter in exchange for information on the Southside Serpents. They won’t be locked up, but if you don’t hold up your side of the deal, you’ll be rotting in Shankshaw forever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slides over a piece of paper. An agreement that Clifford must sign, promising he’ll give up the Southside Serpents for his freedom. His hands are cuffed, shakily, he grabs the pen on the table. “I can’t,” he says, waving his cuffed hands at her. Agent Grundy rolls her eyes, making her way closer, she unlocks his hands. “Thank you,” he mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches as he scans over the paper. “Hurry up,” he snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clifford looks again, pointing at the piece of paper, he speaks. “What does this say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grundy bends over again, looking at the paper, she tries to read but before she can repeat what it says, she feels Clifford’s hand in her hair and her face smacks the table. Three more times against the table, she tastes her own blood, her nose caves in, unable to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The alarm sounds around them and through the pain, she looks at Clifford. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” she screams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clifford Blossom smiles as he’s dragged away. “You think I’m a rat?!” he laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just watches him get dragged away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a turning point you get to when you grow tired of everything around you. I wish I had used that tiredness and turned it into motivation. I wished a lot of things. Things that could have saved my soul. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I turned to your mother for guidance. The love of my life. But I wonder if she grew tired too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
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</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. what we had were not paths and plans but a direct road to hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been forever and and a day. And I've kept my beta waiting for this. I apologise to everyone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>what we had were not paths and plans but a direct road to hell</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>I thought that having a clear path and plan always lead to greatness. Seeing exactly what was in front of me and everything for what it was would mean I never lost my way. Everything was planned so meticulously, so clearly, that there was no way that what I built - what we built - would ever go wrong. But I was wrong, son. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing was clear. What we had were not paths and plans. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But a direct road to hell. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>....</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Sheriff Kevin Keller stands, leaning against his police cruiser, fiddling with his badge. All brightly shined and sitting lopsided on his chest, he keeps running his fingers over the buffed piece of metal. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he hears the cars approaching behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t look back at the approaching cars. All he can think about is his father, sitting in his office in his station. The Chief knows his son is out here, about to raid the headquarters of the Southside Serpents. Kevin knows his father encourages him to do the right thing, by his town and by his badge. But he also knows, deep down in his stomach, he’s torn about what he’s doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin can almost hear Agent Grundy’s voice already. Her unsettling smile and laugh. He doesn’t like her, but he likes what she represents. An out for their small town. An opportunity to make the town right again, to fix the things that the Serpents have broken. To get illegal activity out of their streets. Peace… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs to himself; peace seems like something that’s so simple, so why does it seem amusing to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Grundy had promised him so many things when ATF turned up on their doorstep. His father had told him not to trust her, but he finds it hard to trust his own father. Kevin knows his father’s relationship with the outlaws. He knows the extent of it, the roots of it. He knows that his father is only doing what is right for the town and for the club. If the club trusts Tom, then Tom can know the truth about everything they do and keep them somewhat in line. But Kevin feels times are changing and everything is as simple as they used to be. The Serpents are growing bigger and badder than ever before. Kevin feels like he needs to do something about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Grundy and her ATF crew finally pull up behind him. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath as he hears her call out. “You ready, Sheriff?” she calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin fakes a smile, nodding he agrees. “Sure am, Agent.” He jumps back in his cruiser, starting it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin wants to change the town. To make it safe again. But his head and his heart battle as he drives away, heading towards the Whyte Wyrm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as the agent behind him promises a new world in Riverdale, he feels something bad coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Southside Serpents is filled with people he’d consider his friends and as much as the streets of Riverdale might be slithering with snakes, he thinks the Agent brings something worse to Southside and the people he calls friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She brings </span>
  <em>
    <span>death</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Gladys Jones watches her boys fall one by one like flies as the female ATF agent and her team of testosterone fuelled boy band members take them down, bodies slamming to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys doesn’t feel anything until the agent calls; “Search the place!” to which one of the officers, probably the unlucky bitch who has to fuck her as a way to get his pay rise, puts his hands on the Panhead, the very bike her husband lost his life on. Pulling it off the display where it sits as a shrine, the officer pulls it down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Gladys can see is </span>
  <em>
    <span>red</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunging forward, her heels sticking to spilt beer from behind the bar, she manages to get her hands on the agent’s shoulders, pulling her back. Gladys snaps. “You fucking bitch!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The agent is saved by another officer who seems to have his balls in the agent’s grip, pulling her out of Gladys’s grasp. Another officer is behind Gladys, pulling her arms away and restraining her. As much as she wants to fight, she channels her inner strength, remembering that Nathanial will need her tonight when she visits him and no pumped up bitch was going to keep her from her baby. Instead, Gladys glares at the agent, spitting at her feet. Grundy eyes her, smirk written all over her face hidden only by the bruising over her nose and eyes. “The Serpent Queen has guts,” the agent sniggers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you, darlin’, need to get your dick sucked,” Gladys snaps back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys enjoys watching the agent squirm on the spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys’s heart pounds. Two officers keep her restrained but she can see her home coming down around her. Archie lies on the floor, hands behind his back and blood spilling from his mouth. Her own baby is already outside with cuffs on and her husband seems to be the only one not cuffed or on the floor but the heartache in his eyes as the officers destroy the place for the second time in weeks is getting to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at FP’s bike on the floor as the officers pull photos off walls and smash bottles, destroying the garage - it all hurts her more than it should. Not much gets to her when it comes to FP but that piece of metal will always mean more to her than it should being the thing that FP died on. He went out as every man should, fast and hard on the piece of metal that he loves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well,” the agent starts as the room starts falling silent, finally, the wreckage is ending. But the fury was only beginning. “Paul Jones,” she states with a smile, holding Souphead’s hands behind his back. “You’re under arrest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys’s head starts shaking, her eyes beading. The agent couldn’t be taking one of her boys. “WHAT FOR!” she shouts, trying to free herself from the confines of the officers hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Grundy gives Gladys a quick smile before turning back to Souphead whose face is fallen and dark. “For the murder of Adam Chisholm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys doesn’t know what to think, her heart races and when she’s finally free, she clutches at the scar on her chest, willing the pain away. She might not know what to think, but she knows that it’s bad judging by the silence from her boys. She hates the agent, but by the looks of things, she knows the agent is right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys file out of the Whyte Wyrm, the agent following close behind them with every single bit of triumph in her look. But behind the mess, behind the officers stands Kevin Keller, a boy Gladys knows almost as well as the boys who were cuffed and restrained. He follows a little further behind, wearing a look of worry. Maybe fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladys slinks up behind Kevin before he walks out of the bar, whispering in his ear she says; “It’s a tough battle with your conscience if these boys go down dirty, Kev.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin sighs, avoiding her look. “I know, Mrs Jones.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The night had been long. Too long, Jughead thinks but he leans his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joaquin sits next to an empty seat, his hand resting on it as if trying to search for his partner in crime. Souphead had been in custody all night and with no end in sight, Jughead’s stress for his brother was increasing. Looking to his right, Jughead feels the same too. Archie’s seat was empty and he doesn’t know why. His panic was only reduced temporarily when he had arms to go home too, a heart to listen to. A comforting touch and a listening ear when Veronica was at his home, in his kitchen cooking dinner as if it were the most normal thing in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is the most normal thing in the world, he thinks. He hates that it feels like the most foreign thing to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fred sits on the other side of the table, pushing his nasal cannula into his nose with a deep breath but Edgar grabs the gavel, tapping it on the table. “I guess we better start then,” he says deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fred shakes his head slowly. “We can’t start without everyone at the table…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The table falls silent, everyone seems to be exchanging glances but Jughead can tell, feels something in him, that Archie wasn’t going to start. “Souphead has been taken in by the feds, Freddie,” Edgar says slyly. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead can see his best friend’s father’s face fall. The sarcasm was heavy, but the lack of mention of Archie hurts the most. “Maybe we can wait ten more minutes for Arch,” Jughead suggests but he’s shut down immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many times did you try to get in touch with him, Reggie?” Edgar asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie winces, gritting his teeth, he slides a little further into his chair, not wanting to start a fight, Jughead can tell. “Called him, Betty and rode over to their place but couldn’t see him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he’s been taken away, huh?” Edgar spits, this time at Jughead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead can feel the aggression coming off his stepfather’s question. It wasn’t even a question. It’s like Edgar just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> Archie’s been taken into custody as well. “If he’s been taken in, then that would solve the question of where he is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar laughs, throwing his head back but both Jughead and Fred look at each other, both feeling the frustration they have towards their Pres. “We have Souphead locked up by that bitch, we have Archie possibly locked up too and we’re sitting here talking about who may or may not be locked up. We have more important matters to discuss -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Fred hisses across the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar’s eyes bead. “Like who’s more likely to crack under the pressure of the fucking ATF!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone falls silent again. Reggie’s nervous tapping on the table that was a constant through the room has ceased. Jughead’s face burns, his temples throb. Archie wouldn’t crack. He knows it. “What are you insinuating?” Jughead asks, slowly turning his head to his stepfather. “That Archie would rat?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My son is no rat!” Fred says loudly, smacking his hand on the table. “He was born and raised at this table, he is not about to rat!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard Tom!” Edgar spits. “You heard she’s targeting people with something to lose. Your son has taken the fall for us, and I love and respect him for that. But he has heat from his family, he has something to lose and we don’t know how much more strength he has in him to keep this up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead can’t ignore the beating in his chest or the way his jaw hurts when he clenches it. All he knows is that his brother was missing and he doesn’t like it. Standing up from the table, he shoots a glare at his stepfather. “We can’t make those kinds of assumptions,” he says, picking up his kutte and putting it on. Tucking his drop point into his inside pocket. “That’s when we start turning on our own!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking out of the clubroom, Edgar shouts after him. “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TO FIND ARCHIE!” he shouts back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a darkness looming around him that he can’t shake. And he feels like his brother might feel it too. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Veronica hates the feeling. She doesn’t know which one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She assumes she hates them </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though her mind is filled with so many things. Things she loves. Pride in her job, the respect she has for her peers. How far she’s come and how far she’s come on her own. Watching the babies that she cares so deeply for make their ways, in leaps and bounds, through all the problems they’re faced with. She loves it all and sometimes, when she thinks about it, she can’t believe she’s part of this thing that’s so much bigger than herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s so many feelings she hates. The feeling that most nights, when Jughead makes his way back home, she can somehow manage to ignore the blood. And the look in his eyes when she asks how his day was and he replies with a simple ‘fine’. That when he’s eating dinner with her in the evening, she feels like it’s normal and the love that she had tried to drown out for so long is back like a raging, rampant river. She hates that she fits into this life that she had tried to avoid for so long, perfectly. She hates that he loves her back, because maybe if he didn’t, she wouldn’t have these feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the feelings she hates most is </span>
  <em>
    <span>jealousy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And it feels loud, booming and angry right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica stands in the room that Nathanial has been in for the last ten weeks, checking over his chart just as she always does. But right now, he’s in someone else’s arms and part of her wonders if he even knows who they belong to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels guilty for even thinking about it. Toni loves the cuddles, the way she smiles makes Veronica smile too until she doesn’t. Jealousy flaring up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica watches Toni stroke his cheeks as he sleeps, playing with his tiny fingernails and frowning at the big scar on his chest. “He likes it when you stroke his eyebrows,” she says with a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Toni asks, grinning back. Trying it, his little body stirs in Toni’s arms and his lips turn up into a smile. “Oh my god,” she exclaims. “He does!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles as she watches on, Toni trying all the little things to get him to smile in his sleep and being amazed by it when he reacts. She knows Toni has come such a long way. She was proud of her, proud of the steps she’s made and proud of the path she’s on, hoping she stays on it. But all the pride in the world doesn’t even attempt to mask the jealousy. Or the fact that it doesn’t matter that Veronica saved that little boy’s life, fed him night and day, tucks him into bed at night and watches him wake in the morning, rocks him in her arms when he needs it or loves him so much. He was in his mother’s arms right now and they’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tearing herself out of her thoughts, Veronica decides to speak. “Where are you staying at the moment?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni shifts her eyes from Nathanial to Veronica. “Gladys has me staying in the old apartment just on Greendale,” she says. “I went home and the locks were changed…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica tries to read Toni. She knows she’s staying close, and maybe she has intentions on sticking around. But the home with the changed locks is the exact same one she’s been staying at herself, cooking dinner in the kitchen and sleeping in the main bedroom next to the one all painted and ready for Nathanial’s return home. “Oh,” is all she manages to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Toni sighs. “But it’s okay, I expected it. But Gladys told me that Jug is still searching for a family and now that I’m sober, maybe it’s the right time, you know?” she asks. “To try again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” she replies, unsure of what to say. Or how to say it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toni nods, putting the baby back in his crib, she picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder. “Gladys can be tough sometimes, but if there’s anyone who knows exactly what’s going on in Jughead’s mind, it’s her. And now that I’ve fixed myself up, I’m still going to meetings and stuff and I think I’m in this good place with Jug and Nathanial, something good might come out of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica’s mind runs static. She can barely hear anything else as Toni says goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows nothing good ever comes out of anything Gladys Jones has to do with. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>If Jughead was stressed after searching the streets for Archie, even going as far as to talk to his neighbours about anything they’d seen in the last few days that might lead him to his whereabouts and then finding out that he, Betty and the kids left at two that morning in unmarked cars, it had nothing on the feeling he has now as he looks at Reggie’s laptop screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie points at things that Jughead has no idea about. But clearly at the top of the screen is Archie’s name and then an amount of money that Jughead knows for a fact Archie doesn’t have. “What does this mean, Reg?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie cringes, sighing loudly and running a hand through his hair, he answers. “That’s money,” he says. “And that there is a federal wire payment…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead feels like the room is spinning, only steadying when Joaquin speaks.”What?” he asks, confused. “He’s been paid out by the ATF?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or that’s how it’s supposed to look,” Sweet Pea shrugs, spinning in his chair. “They want him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a rat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless of the truth, Jughead is completely aware of the reality of what this looks like. And if the ATF were out to make Archie look like a rat, they had succeeded. Shaking his head, he puts his hands in the air. “We have to stop and breathe,” he tells his crew, knowing exactly how quick they jump to conclusions. “We can’t make any decision until we hear what’s happening from Archie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Reggie and Joaquin nod but he gets nothing in response from Sweet Pea. Jughead worries about Sweet Pea, his history of jumping into things blindly, his loyalty to Edgar. But he tells himself that he needs to trust all of his men, Sweet Pea included, and trust that he won’t make any irrational decisions when it comes to Archie. “But what if he is grilled by the ATF?” Joaquin asks. “What if he has cracked after all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do nothing until we hear from him,” Jughead snaps, slamming his hands on the bar top. “Am I clear?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys agree but Jughead swallows a lump in his throat, not sure of where to go from here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Archie has been taken in for questioning by the ATF and spills, it’s too late anyway. Might as well give his brother a headstart in getting away before blood spills. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Edgar sits at the table that he rules, gavel in hand, twisting it between his fingers. His Sergeant at Arms sits down next to him, quietly speaking. “Federal wire into his account,” he whispers. “Tell me what you want me to do, Boss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar inhales slowly, closing his eyes, he knows what he has to do. His club would crumble, he only has so long until being behind bars is too hard for him. He knows that at his age, he can’t serve more time. And he refuses to go down because of weakness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks about the man he calls his son, how his patience and softness towards Archie Andrews was starting to cost the club. He never trusted Archie, not since he got out of Shankshaw. His heart was too soft, just like his father’s and Fred was walking on this ice too. “Do you think he’s an informant, Sweets?” he asks, prying his right hand for his opinion. “What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet Pea goes silent, lifting his shoulders, he answers. “I think he is, Ed,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar feels the disappointment, but the inevitably of someone turning rat wasn’t a surprise. Everyone has a weak spot, it’s just unfortunate that the Andrews men have more than one.  “You know what we got to do then, Sweets.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Sergeant at Arms just nods, the task at hand weighing heavy on his shoulders, but Edgar knows that Sweet Pea is aware this was the right thing to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar rubs his dying hands. No one was going to take his club from him. Not that ATF bitch. And definitely not the weakness of a man. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“So, you were arrested for attempted arson in a car yard? Is that right? Alongside Dilton Doiley, but by the looks of things here, he left you to take the fall… three years, was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie feels sweat dripping down the back of his neck, hands slippery and shaky. On the other side of the wall, in the other room so close to his, he can hear both Ellie and Freddie laughing. “Two,” he answers simply, trying to cooperate as much as possible. “Let me see my family.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your family are fine,” Agent Grundy says, her smile making him angry. “But you have to give me something to work with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said,” Archie says, feeling defeated. “I’ve got nothing to tell you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Grundy laughs, making Archie panic more. He watches her pace up and down the interviewing room. Grabbing a file off the desk behind her, she throws a piece of paper on the table in front of him. Staring back is a drawing that looks just like him, the description on the side describes him right down to the colour of his hair. He swallows a lump in his throat. “Do you think this looks like you?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the picture, trying to pick out something - anything that might be different to his own appearance but he’s stuck. Shaking his head, he answers. “No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” she mocks. “According to your wife, Betty, it looks a hell of a lot like you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie withholds a groan, the feds questioning Betty was never going to help. Betty would definitely cave under the questions or turn completely on him, throwing everything she knows about the club to them without hesitation. “I can’t help you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adam Chisholm was murdered by Paul Jones but you were identified as being at the scene. Care to answer that? You tell me what I need to know about the Southside Serpents and the Blossom Family Trust and I’ll let you and your family free. I can help you.” Archie keeps tight lipped. Tired and worn, he just shakes his head. “Okay then,” Grundy breathes. “Maybe this will help you get talking. For the sake of your family.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Grundy heads to the door, opening it up, Betty walks in and the agent walks out. He sighs with relief, looking at his wife who looks equally tired and worn as he does, she rushes to his arms, pressing her face against his chest. “Betty,” he says with relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tears soak through his shirt and he just brings her in tighter, feeling her body shake with sobs. “We need to get out of this mess, Archie,” she cries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he says, stroking her hair. “I’m trying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling away, she looks up at him, looking deep into his eyes. “They promised witness protection,” she says in a hurry. “Just give them what they want and we can go…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie swallows loudly, squeezing his eyes shut, he wishes she would see things the way he does. They can’t run. He knows the club will find him anyway. “It’s bullshit, Betty,” he groans. “I hand the club over and we run, it’s not going to end well. Guys who do that either can’t live with the guilt and kill themselves or get found first and get killed. It’s not that simple.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to try,” she begs. “For our family!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is our family, Betty!” he argues, throwing his hands in the air. “We can’t leave, they’ve kept us going all this time. We can’t abandon the very people who took you in!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to concentrate on something but he can’t keep up with the tears he watches spill from his wife’s eyes. “I don’t want you to get locked up again, this mess, it’s all because of the club!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same club who took you in when your mom bailed, Betty. The same club your mom tapped out of the moment it got too hard and left you. They’re our true family, it’s our life. They’re the ones who put food on our table. We can’t escape that. They protect us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie can tell she wants to argue. To lash out, to make him pay. But he knows his wife well enough to know she knows he’s right. “I’m not a woman that leaves her family,” she mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls her in closer, kissing her forehead he breathes again. “I know you’re not.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The open road didn’t bring him any peace. Not like it usually does. The roads he was on earlier were leading him home where he’d find some sanctuary and calm but the phone call from Souphead just complicated things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead pulls up at the Greendale Sheriff’s house, he knocks on the door. A simple call wasn’t going to cut it, he needed proof and he needed it as soon as possible. The trip to Greendale would be worth it, he hopes. It will be worth going home late to Veronica if it means he can get what he needs to save Souphead and Archie. He’d do anything for his brothers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even risking himself getting caught by the ATF travelling to Greendale to see his corrupt cop buddies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the door opens. At first Moose glances behind Jughead before dragging him into his home by the arm. “What the hell are you doing here, Jughead?” Moose asks, confused, shutting the door behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know,” Jughead replies, putting his hands up. “It’s risky, I shouldn’t be coming to see you, but I have to. We’re in shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moose groans, shaking his head, but offers Jughead a can of beer from his fridge while Jughead heads into the kitchen behind him. “What sort of shit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need a witness,” Jughead says, getting straight into it before taking a sip of his beer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need a witness? What for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jughead starts again. “We need the details and information of a witness. On something that was seen involving Soup and Archie. We need to get rid of that witness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moose’s eyes widen, mouth dropping to the floor. “Shit, Jug,” he says. “Do you know what you’re asking me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead tries to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but he fails. “Of course I do!” he replies. “But we need it done and you owe us one, or your paycheck might just make its way to your higher ups.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t feel good for it, but blackmail was the only thing he could think of on the spot that might save his brothers from being taken away to Shankshaw. Moose can sense it too, glaring at him. “You’re playing that game?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead just shrugs. “I have to at this point.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Moose just nods. “I’ll see what I can do,” he tells him. “But you better get going, it’s getting late… don’t you have a family and shit to go to?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He agrees. Turning around, he leaves the house. He has something waiting at home that’s a world away from this.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Jughead can’t contain his relief when he sees Archie’s pick up pulling up the driveway. Running up to the pickup, he swings the door open, pulling his brother out by his arm, he gets Archie into his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows his brother would never do wrong by the club and having Archie right here, in his arms, proves that he was right. He could trust Archie. They all could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Betty walks slowly from around the drivers side of the truck with a smile on her face. Jughead hadn’t seen that look in a long time and something tells him that maybe in the days Archie has been missing, maybe he found something and fixed it in Betty. Pulling her in, he gives her a hug too. “Good to see you here,” he tells her. “Haven’t seen you at JS in a long time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles, elbowing him in the ribs. “Been a long time since I’ve wanted to be here,” she says with a sigh. “But here I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie gives his wife a grin, pride streaming through and Jughead takes the hint. “Alright, I’ll wait for you in the clubroom, Arch. See you later, Betty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only a few seconds before he sees Archie’s truck being driven out of the yard again and his brother catching up behind him. “Hey, Jug!” he calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead slows down, waiting for Archie to get to his side. “You okay, bro?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Archie says with a sigh. “I have things to explain at the table.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Jughead replies. “Things seem to be better with Betty…” he presses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone tried to fuck with her family,” Archie mumbles. “And she doesn’t like that, so now she sees the club for what it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Family,” Archie agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make their way into the Whyte Wyrm before entering the cub room. Jughead takes his seat first before Archie falls down beside him. Edgar reaches over to Archie, grabbing his hand. “Good to see you, brother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie gives their Pres a weak look, nodding. “I have something to say when the table is full.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s open to you, Arch,” Edgar replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They give it a few more minutes, Jughead simply relieved that everything seems to be straightening out but still torn about everything going on around him. The heat from the ATF, the new deal with selling to Stonewall Cartel and the drugs that are still being sold on the street. Nathanial was supposed to be coming home soon but he still doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Archie’s story was supposed to get rid of a lot of stress, but Jughead isn’t so sure that it will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The table fills with Souphead’s seat empty but Archie clears his throat, looking over to his father, Jughead can see the relief on Fred’s face too. Edgar speaks. “We thought you might have been ratting, Arch -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fred cuts him off. “The fact that he’s here says otherwise, doesn’t it?” he replies coolly. “He’s not a rat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edgar shoots a glare at Fred. “Archie asked for the table, so I’m giving it to him, old man. Let’s hear what he has to say.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Archie takes a deep breath, looking to Jughead for comfort, Jughead nods. “You can do it, Arch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Betty, the kids and I were all taken by the ATF the other night. I cooperated because I didn’t want to start anything,” Archie exhales, rubbing his forehead with his eyes closed. Taking another breath, he continues. “We were questioned, Grundy did it all. Tried to get Betty to rat, she didn’t. Tried to get me on the hit that Bret got me and Soup on, I didn’t give them anything. She let us go with nothing to go on, but there’s a witness of us getting Adam Chisholm and I don’t know what to do. But Betty is by us and I would never betray my kutte. That’s that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead places a comforting hand on his brother. He knew there was more to his disappearance, there had to be. His brother would never leave them high and dry. Pulling his brother in by the neck, he gives him a hug. Edgar starts again. “You’ve always been loyal to us, Archie. We love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jughead doesn’t miss the empty tone in his stepfather’s voice or the look Sweet Pea flickers their way. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Veronica puts her hands on Jughead’s shoulders. They were tense, his hands that he was rubbing together slowly with his head bowed down were moving nervously. His words may be silent, but she reads his face and it’s mournful and worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His silence is louder than he knows, she thinks. Everything he doesn’t say just screams at her face. Tracing her fingers over the Southside Serpents tattoo that fills his entire back, she feels him relax just a little. Beside him on his couch sits a book that she’s watched him read over the last few weeks but yet, she doesn’t know what’s inside and she’s not so sure she wants to know what’s inside. All she knows is that sometimes, when he reads it, he becomes a different man for a moment, just to fall back into the same man that he usually is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls her arm, letting her fall into his lap, he dots kisses on her lips, over and over again and it’s the moments like these where she realises that no matter what he does elsewhere, right here, in his four walls with her in his presence, he’s every bit the man she loves. “Are you okay?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always okay when I’m with you,” he sighs against her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica knows he’s lying, not sure if he’s lying to himself, or to her. But there’s lies in his words. “Something’s wrong,” she continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a breath, he nods. “Do you get into something so deep, you don’t know how to get out?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks about it. And she does. She loves him so deep, she doesn’t know how to get out. “I do,” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jughead kisses her again, his eyes closed tightly. She swears she sees a tear. “I’m always worried, Veronica. What’s going to happen next, who’s going to get hurt next, which one of my brothers am I going to lose next. It’s never ending.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you need to let go of it all,” she murmurs. “Do what’s right for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything seems to be wrong, I don’t want to lose anything… I don’t want to lose you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll never lose me,” she whispers, holding his face in her hands. “I’ll always be here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds him and she knows. That was the very thing that scares her. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lies are the very thing that destroy everything around you. You tell one lie, it just makes it easier for the next one to spill out of your mouth. The moment you feel comfortable with telling a lie, is the moment you lose your soul. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lies are the creator of evils, they’re the creator of destruction. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When you see everything crumbling down around you, look back. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which one of the lies started all of this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
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